Hot and Cold
by Angrybee
Summary: Set in 1920's San Francisco. Yakuza assassin Kenshin meets up with Italian Sano Giovanni and starts a detective agency. Characters IC. KK Sano
1. Heat Wave

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, nor do I ever mean to. Just a fan.  
  
Note to readers: I know this doesn't -exactly- represent 1920's San Francisco in a historical manner. It takes a little imagination, but hopefully not too much to evoke the noir-detective-story meets roaring 20's feel I was going for..  
  
Chapter 1:  
  
The night was sultry and hot, like a ravished woman's afterglow. The city of San Francisco had never known such a heat wave, but Himura Kenshin tended not to notice. He shivered in spite of himself. Never able to get warm. He was never able to get warm.  
  
Sano, his friend and partner, had noticed the shiver a few times. "Jesus. Its like 100 degrees out here and you are -still- cold? Incredible. You are just fucking incredible, Kenshin."  
  
The smaller man merely nodded and handed Sanoretti Giovanni the rest of his bottle of ale. The stuff still tasted like crap to him, even after living in the states for almost a year. "Eh, Sano? Where are we going? We've been walking forever."  
  
"Uptown. To a speakeasy known as The Arabeko. We're meeting a client there."  
  
Good. That would mean that Sano would do all the talking this evening. And Kenshin could just sit around take it all in, watching the strange Americans and their amusing ways. A good way to pass the time. A good way to take his mind off things.  
  
The pair wandered into an alleyway on the outskirts of Chinatown. It should have really been called Asiatown, Kenshin thought. He finally saw a few store signs that he could read. It felt like a relief.  
  
Sano knocked on an unseen door and said, "I've got three feet."  
  
A muffle voice replied, "Then you shouldn't dance."  
  
Sano nodded and provided what Kenshin assumed was the correct answer, "Or the tango ends up a tangle."  
  
The door opened. Inside, a hefty bouncer pointed to a dimly lit set of stairs. The pair nodded and tipped the guy, and headed in to the speakeasy.  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
"Himura-san. We have a very important job for you. We are sending you to the Americas. Our people in San Francisco have been having problems with the Italians. They've been kidnapping the wives and daughters of our people there and using them for leverage in deals. We need our shipments to be able to flow, you understand, Himura-san? We need no more distractions so that our men there can get business done."  
  
The yakuza boss Aoshi didn't need to make his point any clearer. To send Kenshin to the Americas meant it was important enough. He was their best assassin. He knew they wouldn't put him out of their reach lightly.  
  
Aoshi gave Himura a hefty sum of traveling money, and told him that more would be waiting in a bank account in San Francisco for his living expenses. He was to return when the San Francisco boss was no longer in need of his services.  
  
"Boss, a question?"  
  
"I know Himura. Don't worry. Your sister, Tsubame, will be well cared-for while you are away. We will make arrangements to move her to the safe house in the city. She will be protected at all times and will go to the private school with my own daughters."  
  
"Thank you, Aoshi-san."  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
"So why -did- you bring me along, eh Sano?" Kenshin asked as they were going down the stairs. Usually the tall Italian greeted clients alone. Kenshin's deadly gaze and silent demeanor had spooked a few of their clients off in the beginning.  
  
"Because this client. Well. She's Japanese."  
  
"I see." That explained it. That damn Sano thought that maybe he might have to resort to having Kenshin schmooze her in her own language. Tough. Kenshin wasn't the schmoozing type. That was Sano's job. If the girl didn't need their help, Kenshin sure wasn't going to try to talk her into it.  
  
The opened the metal door to The Arabeko. Inside, Kenshin heard music that reminded him of a few of the more posh dining establishments back home. Not that he usually went to those sorts of places on his own. But he had gone to a few business deals at such places, and taken Tsubame out a few times for special occasions such as her birthdays  
  
The set stopped, and a lone saxophonist took their place during the downtime. "Americans. They could mix anything," Kenshin thought.  
  
The Arabeko itself had a pleasant air, and wasn't took crowded or rowdy like many of the speakeasies tended to be. There was a bar, of course, a stage, a small dance floor, several private tables and a small area designated for gambling. Sano looked at the latter hungrily for a second before Kenshin -accidentally- stomped on his friend's foot.  
  
"Isn't that how you got in trouble in the -first- place, Sano?"  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
Sanoretti Giovanni held the dice in his hands and prayed. He didn't often pray, even though his mother had brought him up a good Catholic boy. But he prayed today. Uncle Bertino never refused a bet.  
  
If he won this dye roll, he would have all of his gambling debts forgiven. He was in deep. Almost $5,000. If he lost, Uncle Bertino would get Sano's most prized possession in the world. Himself. For seven years he would work off his debts for the Bertino family, doing whatever they wanted, legal or illegal, moral or immoral. And if he didn't, every Italian family from here to Florence would be shooting for his head.  
  
Uncle Bertino, however, wasn't particularly interested in Sano's roll. He'd left his underlings to watch that. They would inform him later. What truly interested Uncle Bertino was the exotic beauty tied up in his bedroom. So young, maybe only 15 or 16. She was the daughter of a well-to- do yakuza member. Certainly they had protected and sheltered her well in her few years of life. And certainly he would be the first to experience all that her budding body had to offer.  
  
Uncle Bertino padded into his bedroom, his fat sweaty body rolling like a dumpling. He closed the door behind him, though he doubted it would prevent the others from hearing the girl's screams. What did he care?  
  
Sano prayed. He literally got on his knees and said all the prayers he could remember. Everyone else in the room being as Italian Catholic as himself, how could they refuse him?  
  
He was praying so hard, he didn't even notice how silent the room suddenly became.  
  
But, right in the middle of a very fervent Hail Mary, he heard the coldest voice he'd ever experienced. But, what caused his particular shiver wasn't the voice, but the flat of a cold metal blade which pressed his chin upwards.  
  
"You. You have name, you do?"  
  
"Sanoretti. Sanoretti Giovanni." Sano opened his eyes carefully. He stared at the odd red-haired man with a cross-shaped scar standing calmly before him, holding a strange foreign-type sword steadily at his chin. In his peripheral view, he could tell that the half-dozen Bertino men in the room laid on the ground. Sano sniffed the air quietly. He didn't smell much blood, so Sano assumed they had only been knocked out.  
  
"You not Bertino?" The question seemed rhetorical, so Sano didn't answer. "You praying, ah?" The strange red-headed man in the foreign-looking garb squinted his chillingly blue eyes a bit and observed Sano.  
  
It took Sano a moment to think how to explain the situation to the young assassin who apparently didn't speak much English. He lifted up his right hand and outstretched his fingers for the Japanese man to see. The top third of Sano pinky finger still bled from where they had removed it with the butcher knife earlier in the day. He had wrapped it in cotton and gauze, but the dressings were easy to slip off.  
  
"Ah," Kenshin replied, as if understanding. "Where Bertino?"  
  
The answer came in the form of a piercing female scream from Bertino's makeshift bedroom. Sano's gaze shifted to the door, and by the time he looked back, the assassin was no longer there. The Italian man raised his hand cautiously to his chin. He could still feel the biting cold of the blade.  
  
By the time he looked back, he could see through the open door. The red- headed assassin had skewered a naked Bertino through the gut. And he had slit him open all the way down to his genitals.  
  
The girl behind Bertino stood naked and tied to some beams in the wall. Her raven-haired head lolled forward, causing her whole body to pull forward against the ropes. Sano watched as blood trickled down her neck and naked body. Sano suddenly felt quite displeased. He didn't know. No. That wasn't true. He didn't mind what went on behind closed doors, as long as he didn't have to see it, as long as he could deny it to himself.  
  
Sano stood and walked tentatively into the doorway as the assassin removed his blade and allowed Uncle Bertino to slump to the ground. Without thinking, he walked across the room while taking off his jacket. Silently, as Kenshin cut the girl down, Sano wrapped her in his dusty jacket. The jacket had hung almost all the way to Sano's knees, so it almost completely dwarfed the petite Japanese teenager.  
  
"I, uh, I know a good doctor. Uh. He won't talk. You know. Keeps quiet? I can take you. But your sword, it might draw attention."  
  
The red-head nodded and stepped out of the room. When he returned, he wore a roomy grey trench coat. It took the assassin only a few moments to sling the blade diagonally across back and secure it, pulling the trench coat on over it. In the end, only the tip of the sword seemed to poke the fabric slightly near the Japanese man's hip. It looked like he was carrying a gun there. A normal occurrence in this day and age.  
  
As they walked along the back alleys, the young assassin carrying the body of the unconscious girl, Sano couldn't control his curiosity about the strange foreigner.  
  
"She your girl?" Sano asked.  
  
"No."  
  
"Why'd you help her?"  
  
"Is job."  
  
"Don't you care that if the rest of the Bertino family finds out, they will hunt you down?"  
  
"How they find out? No one look. Unless..."  
  
Kenshin peered at the lanky Italian walking next to him. His eyes narrowed, and Sano could have sworn they glowed the color of the golden moonlight above.  
  
"No way. I won't tell them. Jesus Christ." Sano clamped a hand over his own mouth and quickly made the sign of the cross. His mother didn't mind him swearing so much. As long as it wasn't -that- swear. "So anyway, you have a name, or what?"  
  
Kenshin walked silently for a few moments. Could he trust this guy? He -had- given the girl his coat and he -was- taking them to a doctor. But, maybe the doctor thing was a trick.  
  
"I tell you. This girl lives, and I tell you."  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
Only a few weeks after that, the San Francisco yakuza had experienced a shake-up from within. The new boss was a cruel man, and Kenshin found him horribly dishonorable. Aoshi was a lot of things, but he never believed in an excessive abuse of violence. No. Only the level of violence needed to get things done right the first time. Himura had killed for Aoshi many times, but never girls. And he had never been asked to torture anyone merely for the sake of making them pay for their debts with pain.  
  
But the new San Francisco boss, Gohei, he was a cruel sort. In retaliation for the kidnappings of the Japanese girls, he began to kidnap the Italian families' daughters and wives.  
  
Kenshin found this sort of thinking deplorable and refused to participate in the kidnappings. He wrote to Aoshi. Two weeks later, Aoshi's return letter released him from the San Francisco yakuza's services. Unfortunately, however, Aoshi would need him to stay in San Francisco a while longer. Other business might be needed there soon, and Aoshi's operatives would contact him when they were ready. Until then, he was released to experience America.  
  
"You needed a vacation, anyway, Himura-san." Aoshi's letter wrote.  
  
Kenshin had moved out of the yakuza's safe house when Sano had told him of his new plan. The two had become fast friends since that first day when Kenshin killed Bertino and had brought the injured girl to Dr. Genselli. Sano was out of the gambling business now. For good, he promised. He was going to start a Detective agency. Help people in trouble, especially since the corrupt local police force couldn't be trusted. And he wanted to know if Kenshin wanted in.  
  
For now, Kenshin slept in the supply closet of the office they had rented on the border between Little Italy and Chinatown. It had a cot, and enough room for the few things he had brought from Japan. He ate with Sano at Sano's mother's house usually, always amused that how the tiny and ancient Italian woman could make her rowdy and womanizing son cringe.  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
Kenshin removed his foot from Sano's with a bemused grin and sat down at a nearby booth. Sano snarled and limped to the table.  
  
"Yeah, yeah. You're right," Sano said as he thrust his hand into his coat pocket and rolled his lucky dice over and over in his hand. His lucky dice. The ones he was about to roll when Kenshin showed up. The ones he had absentmindedly pocketed before he wrapped that girl in his jacket.  
  
He'd learned since then that the dice were weighted. He would have lost. If he had thrown those dice, he would belong to the Bertino family now. They were lucky dice. Yup. Lucky for him, Kenshin had shown up.  
  
"You still owe me the money I lent you to pay off the Bertinos," Kenshin said off-handedly.  
  
"Whatever," Sano said. He liked it better when Kenshin didn't know as much English. He had learned way too fast what to say and how to say it.  
  
Sano pulled out a cigarette and lit up, leaning back to crook his arm relaxedly over the top of the booth seat. He surveyed the room as Kenshin tried to hail the waitress for a glass of water. Yup. He was the only non- Asian person here. And he liked it that way. None of his Italian "acquaintances" to come by and bug him.  
  
As for Kenshin, he was busy ordering. Surprised that they had sake, he decided to give it a pass and go wild. Lemonade. Sano was shocked. Besides the few sips of ale Kenshin would drink before passing the bottles to the alcohol-mad Italian, Sano had only ever seen him drink water. Sano ordered the house liquor smugly and wondered then their client would show up.  
  
It was Kenshin's turn to survey the establishment. His eye was much more discerning and cool than his partner's, which had lingered on every good- looking woman in the joint. Though, Kenshin did let his gaze linger for a moment on the bartender, a good-natured Japanese woman who seemed to have a knack for handling rowdy customers. Satisfied that no one in the place looked like they were going to try to start a fight, Kenshin leaned back and consented to let his gaze unfocus on the pipes near the ceiling.  
  
"Hello. Are you Mr. Giovanni?"  
  
"Yes Ma'am, and this is my partner."  
  
Oh. Finally. She arrived. Kenshin tilted his head forward and tried to focus, a bit dizzy for a moment.  
  
Into his view swam the most strikingly pleasant face he had ever seen. Crisply cut black hair was tied back in a loose purple bow to reveal a face unmarred by time or make-up. Fresh and clean with deep blue eyes. Japanese, sure. But some sort of fragile inner strength shone through the eyes like sparkling snowflake intent upon never melting. Kenshin gasped in spite of himself.  
  
"Kaoru Kamiya," she replied and stuck her hand out towards Kenshin.  
  
"It is good to meet you," Kenshin replied in Japanese. "I am Himura Kenshin." He felt her catch his outstretched hand and shake it firmly. The warmth from her skin invaded his frigid hand, traveling up his arm like an electric shock. When their hands parted after what seemed an eternity, his whole arm glowed with warmth.  
  
Sano, on the other hand, merely peered at the two. He knew his friend was taken by the young Japanese woman. He'd even said his goddamned name backwards. At the thought, Sano checked the normal impulse to cross himself for his internal swear against God.  
  
"Please, sit. Can we get you anything?" Sano asked, oozing politeness.  
  
"No thank you. I'd prefer to get straight down to business, if you don't mind."  
  
The Italian man nodded and nudged his partner under the table. A warning not to stare. But Kenshin couldn't help but look. Kaoru was dressed in the American style, a jade-green dress that hung low at her hips and came down a bit past her knees. The flowing material hung open a bit immodestly the front, but Kaoru had tied a beige scarf there, securing it with an opalescent blue pin that matched her eyes.  
  
"It's my brother, Yahiko. Well. You see. I'm a teacher. I teach both adults and children in the Chinatown community how to speak and read English. It helps the children to go to American schools, and helps the parents get better jobs, but it doesn't always pay much," Kaoru began.  
  
"Yahiko is only thirteen, but, well, he told me he had taken an after- school job to help out with our living expenses. When he told me he was working for a delivery service, I figured it was something like food delivery, or flower delivery. A few days later, he came home with a black eye. The next time, his wrist was broken. The next time, he had a gash on his head. I begged him to tell me what was going on, but he wouldn't. Then I got angry. I told him that there was no way he was going to live under my roof if he didn't tell me where he was working."  
  
"The next day, he went to school, and he never came back. That was a week ago. I don't even know where to start looking for him. I don't know if he is staying away on purpose, or if he is hurt somewhere. He acts tough, so stubborn, but he is still a little kid. And I'm so worried.."  
  
Kaoru's voice seemed to get choppy, and Kenshin could tell she was fighting the impulse to cry. The red-headed assassin reached across the table and put his hand on top of Ms. Kamiya's, his intention half to calm her, and half to find out if that strange warmth would climb up his arm again. As it did, he leveled his icy blue gaze at the woman.  
  
"We'll find your brother, we will."  
  
Sano nodded and pretended not to notice the previously rather unemotional Kenshin being so affected. "There is, however, the small matter of our fee," Sano said, trying desperately to bring a more professional air to the conversation, but failing miserably.  
  
"I don't have much, but I had been saving some for a new blackboard for the classroom, and some new textbooks. Half now and half when the job is done, right?" Kaoru slipped her hand off the table and out of Kenshin's light caress. She reached in her handbag and slid a small wad of folded bills to Sano. The Italian picked them up and examined them before nodding.  
  
"We'd like to come by tomorrow morning and examine Yahiko's room. His things. Perhaps if you had a picture handy, that would also help?" Sano said, as he slipped the bills in his pocket.  
  
"Yes. Yes. Of course. I am usually free in the mornings." Kaoru scribbled down her address and passed it to Sano.  
  
Kenshin took the opportunity to watch Kaoru again, while her concentration was on Sano. But his thoughts were interrupted by some buzzing noise. What? Was someone talking to him?  
  
Kaoru looked directly at Kenshin. She quirked an eyebrow and a small grin crossed her face.  
  
"Sir. Sir. Your lemonade, sir? With extra sugar?" the waitress was saying.  
  
Kenshin had never been so embarrassed. 


	2. A Little Irish

Standard Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or this series. Just a fan.  
  
Readers: Sorry that the chapter meanders about a bit. Thought I would put in some humor after all the exposition of the last chapter.  
  
Chapter 2: ~*~*~*~*  
  
Kenshin pulled on his clothes as he heard the people in the office next door come in for work.  
  
"Kaoru," Kenshin mumbled to himself. Today he would see that lovely lady from the Arabeko again. The one who had strangely magical effects on his body temperature. The young redheaded man pulled on the western style pants that Sano had bought him. They hung loosely around his waist so Kenshin pulled the belt off the nail it hung from on the wall.  
  
After dressing, Kenshin picked up the small silver-framed picture which stood on the small wooden box he had been using as a dresser. In the picture, his father, Kenji, stood next to his mother, who rested her head on his shoulder. Below them, a pre-teen Kenshin stood next to his younger sister who smiled bashfully through her bangs.  
  
"Tsubame. Be well, Tsubame. Do your best in your studies today," Kenshin murmured as he touched the glass above Tsubame's bashful face.  
  
Kenshin grabbed his trench coat and strapped his sword across his back. Time for breakfast.  
  
Breakfast with the Giovanni household was always a raucous affair. So, it was best to take in the ebb and flow of the city morning in a slow walk towards Little Italy. Kenshin heard the newsboys on the street shouting the morning's headlines as soon as he left the office building.  
  
"San Francisco heat wave expected to last another week! Seventeen already dead!"  
  
Men and women busily opened shops and swept sidewalks. Giggling schoolchildren ran haphazardly towards schools in a half-hearted attempt to not be late. Kenshin stopped at a nearby flower shop and picked up a small bouquet of mixed flowers. As he did, he eyed the violets. Would it be improper to bring Miss Kaoru some flowers as well? Probably so. What was he thinking? Sano would make him throw them away, at the very least.  
  
When he finally arrived at the Giovanni house, a thin red building sandwiched between two other buildings, Kenshin walked inside without knocking. Stealthily, he slipped inside and around the staircase leading to the residents' bedrooms. One ice-blue eye peered through the cracked- open door into the kitchen where sounds of eggs being fried could be heard.  
  
Prey.  
  
A female scream reverberated through the house.  
  
"Oh Kenshin," Mrs. Giovanni said, batting the air in front of the young man playfully, "You scared me to death. You're as bad as my Sano."  
  
Kenshin smiled and handed the aging but spirited woman the flowers.  
  
"Alright then, you are forgiven."  
  
Sano burst into the kitchen in only his shorts, a cigarette hanging from his mouth, and a baseball bat in his hands. "Ma? Ma? You okay, Ma? What's wrong?" The barely-dressed Italian man looked around confusedly.  
  
Immediately, a rain of insults in Italian and English were lobbed at Sano, followed shortly by several slaps, pushes and an ear-twist. All Kenshin could make out was: "Never. This house. You smoking. Get out. Get dressed. Breakfast."  
  
"Alright. Alright already, ma." Sano tossed his cigarette into the sink and walked back out of the kitchen, but not before giving his friend a glare. Somehow, this had to be Kenshin's fault.  
  
"What a horrible habit. Horrible, I tell you. Smoking. Nasty. You don't smoke, do you Kenshin?" Camilla Giovanni asked as she plucked the cigarette out of the sink and threw it in the trash. Without waiting for an answer, she continued, "Of course you don't. You know why? Because you are a good boy, that's why. There is some fresh squeezed orange juice there, but I know you don't want that, so how about a tall glass of water? These flowers are lovely; I think I will put them in the parlor. Maybe the good doctor will think I had a gentleman-caller, hm? Oh boy, the eggs are burning. Here Kenshin, will you help me out with this. You only need to stir. That's right, just stir the batter."  
  
Camilla Giovanni was -definitely- a morning person. In fact, she was also an afternoon and an evening person. Sano had once remarked that he believed she got -more- energetic with age. In fact, he had said, she would probably still have enough energy after she died to build her own coffin and bury herself.  
  
After that comment, Sano had crossed himself twice, just for good measure.  
  
"Soooo, I heard you two have a new client? A pretty Japanese girl, hm? Maybe you should ask her out, Kenshin. I'd be so glad if my Sano would stop taking a different girl out every week. 'When are you going to give me grandchildren?' I keep asking him. But no. Well, at least he stopped gambling. I do know that is due, in part, to your good influence, Kenshin. You can't hide it from me. Mothers see everything, you know. Ahhh! Dr. Genselli!"  
  
The Giovannis had lived next door to the Gensellis as long as Sano could remember. Dr. Genselli had been Mr. Giovanni's best friend, and when Sano's father died, Dr. Genselli had become like the family's caretaker until Mrs. Giovanni found work in a local Italian pastry shop.  
  
The two families were a lot like one. Dr. Genselli's wife had died too, around the same time as Sano's father, so it was only natural that the widow and widower would become companions. Sano had been waiting -years- for Dr. Genselli to pop the question to his mother, but figured the old fellow probably never would, out of respect for Dr. Giovanni's memory.  
  
The old doctor ushered his two small granddaughters into the door. They squealed upon seeing Kenshin, and immediately each one clamped onto one of his legs.  
  
"Give us a ride, Kenshin! Give us a ride!"  
  
Kenshin smiled, the color in his eyes melting from ice blue to a light purple. Wordlessly, he handed the doctor the mixing bowl and began clomping up and down the hallway, eliciting squeals of approval from the little girls.  
  
Sano, thankfully, had never told his family Kenshin's true profession. He only told them that the Japanese man had come to America so that he could get money for his ill sister back in Japan. Which was true, Kenshin had begun to work for the yakuza to pay Tsubame's medical bills. Once again, Sano had escaped lying to his mother. A good thing, too, Mrs. Giovanni had a nose for outright lies.  
  
Of course, a story like that had caused Mrs. Giovanni to clutch Kenshin to her chest and exclaim, "Ah. You sweet boy. What a wonderful thing. That poor girl."  
  
Breakfast raged like war in the kitchen. Kenshin had learned, early on, to try to take the seat furthest away from Sano, so as not to get hit by any of Mrs. Giovanni's errant blows. Dr. Genselli's granddaughters never could sit still for more than a few seconds, and were constantly running around, on, and under the table. Dr. Genselli would always try to help Mrs. Giovanni serve the food, but would inevitably trip on one of the little girls, Sano's outstretched legs, or the boisterous Mrs. Giovanni.  
  
It was remarkable that the old man hadn't broken a hip.  
  
"But Ma, its sweltering out there. And the pastry shop is even -hotter-. You can't go to work today. You just can't."  
  
"Don't you tell me what to do, young man. We've got fans in the shop. Besides, no one wants hot goods during this heat wave. We've been making ice cream, you know. Everybody loves that stuff and it sells so well."  
  
"Ice cream!!!! Ice CREAM!!!" the girls yelled in unison.  
  
"Yes, yes. I will bring some home for you two tonight. Now, eat your eggs. You have to grow up big and strong. And, Sano, stop picking your teeth at the table."  
  
"Alright Ma, Jesus Christ."  
  
As Mrs. Giovanni turned, fire in her eyes at the horrific blasphemy her son had uttered, she ran into Dr. Genselli. Somehow, although he had been across the room, Kenshin was at the old man's side immediately to keep the doctor from smacking his head on the counter.  
  
Thankfully, the one thing that could keep Mrs. Giovanni from going ballistic was possible injury inflicted onto anyone besides Sano.  
  
"Oh. Doctor. Are you -alright-?"  
  
In the commotion, Sanoretti Giovanni disappeared from the kitchen. And from his mother's grasp.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Kenshin stepped out onto the porch where he knew his partner was waiting. He handed the Italian the lunches his mother had packed for the pair.  
  
"Chri," Sano began, looking down at the bags. "Crimony." Mrs. Giovanni was still near enough to detect an infraction of the house rules.  
  
Kenshin grinned wolfishly. He realized he hadn't said a word the entire time he had been in the house.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Sano whistled at a passing Irish woman as the pair walked down the street. "Check it out, Kenshin. Her hair is as red as yours. You got any Irish in you? I wouldn't mind having myself in some Irish, if you know what I mean." He elbowed the shorter man playfully.  
  
Kenshin, however, was trying to figure out where they were going. The street signs were in Chinese and English. Kenshin could read neither. They had to be near the Kaoru's house. They had passed the noodle shop with the giant panda painting on the window, just as Kaoru's instructions had said.  
  
Sano stopped in the middle of the sidewalk suddenly. Kenshin, thankfully, was alert enough not to bump into the now-gawking Italian.  
  
"It. Is. Hideous," Sano said haltingly.  
  
Kenshin followed Sano's gaze. The renovated Victorian that sat slightly back from the street was, if anything, very easy to spot. But, someone, someone had painted the house bright purple. Glaringly purple, with white trim. Kenshin peered at the two white doors on the front porch. Both had kanji signs. The left one read merely, "Apothecary". The right one read "Kamiya Learning Center".  
  
"-That- is the place we are looking for, Sano."  
  
"You have to be kidding." Sano stopped abruptly. A young woman neither man recognized came out of the Learning Center and walked across the porch. The girl, woman rather, seemed a few years older than Kaoru and walked with a worldly poise and grace. She wore a lavender gown, in the Western style, upon which someone had painted delicate cherry blossoms. Unlike Kaoru, the woman on the porch didn't seem to feel the need to cover up the plunging neckline.  
  
Sano let out another whistle. "Ooo. Foxy lady." The woman turned for a moment, and looked directly -through- Sano. She smirked only so slightly before turning and entering the Apothecary.  
  
Sano elbowed Kenshin again. "What's that one?"  
  
"Herbal pharmacy."  
  
"Indeed." As wicked thoughts sped through Sano's mind, Kenshin opened the gate to the house and walked through the small garden. Sano followed, and the pair was soon knocking on the Learning Center door.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Thank you for the tea, Miss Kaoru." Kenshin sipped the hot tea slowly. He hadn't had any decent Japanese tea since he had come to America. And, with how burnt the tea tasted, he still couldn't say he'd had any decent Japanese tea.  
  
Sano smelled the green tea and peered in the tiny cup. They were out of their minds, these Japanese.  
  
"You said you have a picture of your brother?" Sano asked, instead.  
  
Kaoru nodded and handed Sano the picture. The boy seemed small for his age, but the picture might be a bit old. He had a dark complexion and spiky black hair. Kaoru stood slightly to his left with one hand on her brother's shoulder.  
  
"May we keep this for now?" Kenshin asked. Perhaps they could show it around, get a few leads.  
  
"Of course."  
  
Sano let Kenshin pocket the picture as he asked, "Did Yahiko have any trouble in school?"  
  
"Not really. No more than any normal teenage boy who looks a bit different than everyone else. My parents came to America when I was very small. But Yahiko, he was born here. He knew enough English to go to a public school, so my parents let him."  
  
"How about other family? Someone he might run to? Neighbors? Family friends?"  
  
"Only our friend Meg. She lives next door. Runs an herbal apothecary. But she's been out of town. When she came over this morning, I asked her if she had seen or heard from Yahiko. She hadn't."  
  
Kaoru bit her lip slightly in absent-minded contemplation, making Kenshin shudder. Those lips of hers. Would they produce the same warmth of her fingers? No. More. Definitely more. By Kami, he had to stop thinking like this. She was a -schoolteacher-, practically. And he was an assassin. A very expert assassin. And schoolteachers do -not- press their lusciously delicate lips against the skin of cold blooded murderers.  
  
"May we look at his room? I know you have probably already looked, but we may be able to see something the untrained eye was unable to detect?" Sano asked, putting a full glass of tea back on the low table.  
  
Kaoru lifted an eyebrow, trying to decide if there was a hidden insult in the last question. Deciding against the possibility, Kaoru stood and ushered the two detectives upstairs to the living quarters. Kenshin looked around the small house. Everything was decorated in purple. Purple vases. Purple curtains. Purple cushions on the floor. Lavender walls. Kenshin felt his jaw drop slightly. The woman really had a thing for purple.  
  
Yahiko's small room, however, had been spared the purple-treatment. It seemed to be a normal room for a young American boy his age. Magazine pictures of airplanes and automobiles were pasted on the walls next to pages from penny-comics. Clothes and schoolbooks were strewn everywhere, and the room had a faint smell of socks.  
  
"Feel free to look around", Kaoru said, standing in the doorway.  
  
Sano nodded to Kenshin and the two started going through drawers and leafing through the pages of magazines and books. Kenshin checked under the bed and the dresser. Sano picked up a pair of the boy's pants, checked the pockets, and then tossed them aside. He repeated this with two more pairs of pants before his hand snagged on a small slip of paper.  
  
Opening the folded paper, Sano said to Kenshin, "Hey, red. I think we have a lead."  
  
At the same time, both Kenshin and Kaoru asked, "What did you find?"  
  
"An address. Its an automobile repair shop."  
  
"Well. Let's go." 


	3. The East Coast Dame

To the readers: I apologize if the beginning is a bit heavy-handed. Hopefully the humor of the last chapter will offset this.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~ Chapter 3: ~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
It took some convincing to keep Kaoru from coming along to investigate to automobile repair shop. Sanoretti Giovanni had grown weary of trying to politely argue with the girl, unable to keep his chauvinistic tendencies down. Kenshin knew if he allowed Sano to discuss the matter with Kaoru much longer, the hot-witted Italian was going to say something regrettable. So, he'd asked Sano to wait outside.  
  
"He's my brother, and I want to know where he is. I want to know what is going on. I am perfectly capable of..." Kaoru began.  
  
While she was speaking, Kenshin had put his hand over his shoulder as if to scratch his own back. Or so Kaoru thought. Instead, as quickly and smoothly as an autumn leaf detaching from a tree during a November breeze, Kenshin had drawn his sword and held it horizontally at eye level in front of his face.  
  
"Do you know what this is, Miss Kaoru?"  
  
The young woman's stubborn demeanor softened slightly. 'Is she afraid?' Kenshin wondered. Of course she was. She had to be. He had hated to do it, hated to frighten the poor schoolteacher. Surely now she would suspect his past, she would perceive the decay and filth in his soul and realize that she, by necessity, had hired a criminal. Because only a criminal mind could penetrate the underworld, understand its movements, its reasoning. Surely now he had no chance to discover the source of the warmth that seemed to drip from her touch and infect his skin like a rapidly-spreading poison.  
  
"A sword," Kaoru said plainly, evenly. The modestly-dressed Japanese woman tilted her head to the side and stared for a moment at Kenshin's downcast countenance. She outstretched her hand and ran two fingertips along the broad side of the sword. "But, the blade is strange. Isn't it backwards?"  
  
Kenshin's hands flexed around the handle. Since his parents died, no one had ever stood in front of his sword without next being the victim of its blow. The gesture seemed serenely intimate, as if Kaoru had stroked some neglected stretch of his skin, as if she had caressed his neck or perhaps his thigh.  
  
A moment afterwards, he felt heat radiate from the handle of the sword into his hands. It had happened again, and this time, they hadn't even touched directly! His hands felt as if he had just come in from the snow and warmed them by the fireplace. How was she doing this? Kenshin had to know.  
  
But for now, he struggled to speak without revealing his confusion, "It is a sword. And I carry it because the business Sano and I are in is a dangerous one, it is. Often we have to deal with unsavory people."  
  
Kaoru blinked and removed her fingers from the sword, and pressed them to her lips. Kenshin was beginning to notice she had an absent-minded habit of touching or biting her lips when deep thought took hold of her mind. He found the habit horribly riveting.  
  
"And sometimes we have to fight those people to achieve our goals, we do. Sometimes they get hurt. Sometimes we get hurt. Unfortunately, Miss Kaoru, I can not allow -you- to get hurt. No. That I can not do.""  
  
Oh. Of course. Kaoru felt suddenly very small and stupid. Of course they would want to protect her. If she were to be killed, who would pay them the other half of the fee? On the other hand, she -had- paid them some money, so it was her right to go along.  
  
Kenshin watched emotions flicker over Kaoru's honest face like the staccato rhythm of a hand-cranked picture show. The woman hid nothing, she bubbled emotion, a boiling pot of feeling that had no fear of spilling over. Admiration for her bravery buzzed in Kenshin's mind.  
  
"If you were to get hurt, who would be here for Yahiko when we found him?"  
  
Stupid. Stupid. She had only been thinking of herself, again. Her need to find Yahiko. Her need to know. Her desire to help. Her fear of being alone. In silence, her fingers tugged at her bottom lip.  
  
"I apologize, Himura-san. You are right. Please, as soon as you find out anything, even if it is the middle of the night, please come and let me know."  
  
Kenshin resheathed his sword and smiled tentatively at the schoolteacher.  
  
"I promise."  
  
As he walked towards the porch, Kenshin's mind reeled. I promise. He had only ever said those words to one other person. Tsubame. His father had taught them never to make a promise unless they meant to stake their entire life on it.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Sanoretti Giovanni leaned against the white railing of the porch, looking at the small garden below. Once, when he was a boy, his father had given him some packages of seeds, and allowed him to try to grow some vegetables in the small plot behind their house.  
  
Sano had eagerly undertaken the task. All spring he had tended the tiny garden, watering the plants, willing them to grow. But, one day, after he had come home from school and rushed out back to regard his budding garden, he found to his dismay a clump of weeds. Carefully, he pulled the weeds out, smiling with pride for protecting his plants.  
  
But, the next day, he had found two clumps of weeds. And the day after that, three patches of weeds. No matter how he tried, he couldn't overtake the blight that was ruining his garden.  
  
In the end, everything died. The weeds, the budding vegetables. Everything died when, out of desperation, he poured gasoline on the tiny plot of land, and then tilled it over.  
  
The Apothecary door opened as Sano lit a cigarette. He looked up from beneath his hat, surveying the woman before him. She walked towards him, or rather, Sano assumed she walked, since she seemed to practically float above the ground. The Italian detective could hear one of his favorite radio programs, the Adventures of Sam Spade, in the back of his mind.  
  
"She walked into my life like a cool breeze on a hot day. The dame.  
She had legs that wouldn't quit and lips that wouldn't let me start.  
I couldn't tell you what she was wearing because the light behind her  
had cast her in silhouette. Before she even spoke, I knew she needed  
my help, and badly. Badly. That was how this would all begin, and  
that his how it would end, with me needing her badly. I pushed back  
my fedora and waited for her to speak."  
  
"Do you like my garden? I fear this hot summer will ruin it," the graceful Japanese woman said, stepping next to Sano. He sucked air in between his teeth. She spoke English with an East Coast accent, the clip in her voice making her even more exotic.  
  
Sano didn't quite know how to reply. He had stopped looking at the garden the moment she stepped onto the porch. "Its stunning", he replied, careful to temper his voice with the appropriate amount of sarcasm. "Sanoretti Giovanni," he began, stretching his hand out. She shook it firmly, but at her touch, Sano noticed the breeze that had suddenly swept through the neighborhood, the light wind disturbing the few strands of hair that escaped the young woman's hat.  
  
"Meg. Meg Takani," she released his hand as the merest trace of a sardonic smirk graced her face. "So. You're one of the detectives that is going to help Kaoru find Yahiko. Well. I hope you are good at your job," she peered at him, almost accusingly, looking him over like one might a piece of old and used furniture they were debating on throwing out. "That girl doesn't need anymore heartbreak in her life."  
  
"Miss Takani. It -is- Miss, isn't it?" Sano watched for a reaction from the woman in front of him. She nodded almost imperceptibly. Sano internalized a congratulatory laugh on how easy it was to find out her marriage status, "Miss Takani, as far as I know, I've never met a single person who -needed- more heartbreak in their life."  
  
The woman seemed slightly taken aback. He carefully polite demeanor seemed to slip away as she leaned her head back slightly and chuckled the strangest laugh Sano had ever heard come from a civilized woman.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
As Kenshin stepped onto the porch, he realized his partner was not alone. Sano stood, back to the Learning Center door, pulling at the collar of his shirt as if to expose his shoulder to the woman standing next to him.  
  
"Yes. That is a mighty bad bruise there, Mr. Giovanni. I could certainly mix you a poultice that would make it heal faster," Meg said.  
  
"Yeah. I got it from a pair of Irish boxers. Wanted to rough me up in a back alley, but you should see the bruises I left -them-. And please, call me Sano."  
  
"Sano," Kenshin said coolly, already used to his partner's techniques at trying to chat up women. "Let's go."  
  
Sano let go of his collar and re-buttoned the top portion of his shirt. He held his hat as he nodded to Meg. "Thank you for your help, Miss Takani. I'll be back by to take you up on that offer soon."  
  
Kenshin nodded to the woman in both greeting and parting, and headed towards the gate, his partner following close behind. It wasn't until the pair were a half-block down the street that Kenshin finally spoke.  
  
"I thought you got that bruise from when your mother hit you with the frying pan for coming home drunk."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Baker Street Automobile Repair across the road from where the two detectives leaned against the windows of a book store.  
  
Sano bit down on his sandwich, chewing quickly as he contemplated their tactics. Kenshin, however, had removed everything between the bread of his sandwich and thrown it away. It wasn't that Mrs. Giovanni wasn't a good cook, it was just that Kenshin's Japanese stomach hadn't gotten used to the idea of egg salad yet.  
  
"I'm going in," Sano said.  
  
The taller man started to step forward but was caught and held back by the outstretched hand of his partner.  
  
"Wait."  
  
The pair watched as a young American boy, about Yahiko's age, rode up to the repair shop on his bicycle. He knocked on the door twice, then once, then twice again. The door opened a few inches and a man's arm from inside handed the kid a small package wrapped in brown paper. The kid sped off in the same direction he came.  
  
"Delivery service," both of the detectives said at the same time.  
  
The pair crossed the street after the door closed. Sano nodded to his partner and proceeded to knock in the same way as the kid had just done. The man behind the door growled, "Hey kid, I just gave you." As the door opened, Sano caught the man's arm and twisted it around the door frame.  
  
Kenshin opened the door the rest of the way and walked inside nonchalantly. Sano pushed the man forward, twisting the man's arm again so that it was now behind his back. The Italian pushed him forward, into the shop.  
  
Inside, large oscillating fans set into the back wall caused the light in the mechanic's shop to stutter rhythmically. Kenshin briefly surveyed the place for other people who might come to the mechanic's aid. No. Just this one guy. And a half-dozen automobiles in various states of disrepair.  
  
"Who are you guys?" the mechanic finally managed to ask, his breath having been forced out of him by the sudden attack. "Are you police? I swear. If you are police, I will tell you whatever you want to know. Just please, don't hurt me."  
  
"We aren't the police," Sano growled, forcing the oil-stained man down into a nearby chair. "We're detectives. And you are going to tell us whatever we want to know anyway."  
  
Kenshin reached into the pocket of his trench coat and pulled out a picture. Unceremoniously, he thrust it in the man's face.  
  
"We want to know everything you know about that delivery service. And about this boy." 


	4. The Marble Squad

To the Readers: Thank you for your kind reviews. I am glad everyone is enjoying things so far. I thought I would wait until now to say that this is the first fan fiction I have ever written or published. But since I have enjoyed the other authors on ff.net and other sites, I thought I would try my best to give something enjoyable back. My only question is: Will Kenshin ever get something decent to eat or drink, or is he doomed to wither up due to thirst and starvation here in San Francisco?  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~ Chapter 4: ~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"The Borderlands Gang," the mechanic began, wiping his brow with a grime- soaked handkerchief, "All of those kids work for the Borderlands Gang."  
  
Sano had long since let go of the mechanic's arm. The guy wasn't going to try to bolt, not with Kenshin's deadly gaze boring into his skull. Gah, but that guy could be creepy sometimes.  
  
"Who are the Borderlands Gang?" Kenshin asked.  
  
"Don't you know? Everyone around here knows about the Borderlands Gang. When they started off, it was great. Everyone loved them. See, their leader is this American guy, born here in San Francisco. He got tired of all the fighting between the different districts, between Chinatown and Little Italy, between the Irish, Jewish, Spanish and Russian districts. His gang took people from all walks of life who were tired of all the innocent people who were getting killed. They promised to protect all of us who live here on the borders between the different districts, because we were always getting caught in the warfare."  
  
"I don't get it," Sano said, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, "Where do the delivery boys come in?"  
  
"Hey! You can't smoke in here, dumbass. You'll blow the whole place sky high. Do you know how much oil and gasoline I have in here?"  
  
Sano tucked the cigarette behind his ear with a snarl as the mechanic began to continue.  
  
"A couple of months ago, things began to get bad. I don't know. Maybe the Borderlands Gang had pissed off too many of the other gangs. Whatever. People around here were getting killed left and right. So one night, I got a visit from a couple of Borderlands guys. They said that if I wanted to continue being 'protected', I was going to need to give them some money every week. So, I told them I could protect myself. Bad decision. They broke my leg to show me otherwise."  
  
The mechanic took a deep breath as he shook his head and looked at the floor dejectedly, "So, I give them the money. Those 'delivery boys' as you call them, come by twice a week to pick up my payments. I remember the one in the picture there. He asked a few times if he could look at the cars inside, seemed real curious about them. Wanted to know how they worked and stuff. But, I haven't seen him in a few weeks."  
  
Kenshin looked at the guy for a few moments as his own expression softened. Perhaps they -had- been a little too gung-ho with this guy. He was just caught up in a situation he didn't know how to combat. "So. Do you know where we can find this gang or their leader?"  
  
"Yeah. They hang out at a speakeasy called 'The Rye House' down on Alameda Street."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Yahiko scrunched himself into an even smaller ball in the nook behind the counter. He was pretending to be asleep. Usually, they wouldn't notice him down here, let him be for a while even if they did. The Borderlands guys weren't so bad, you just had to earn your own way. And that meant working, and working hard.  
  
But, he hadn't been out of the Rye House in a week. He understood why. After what he had seen, he couldn't chance it. No, that was wrong. The gang couldn't chance it. But, still, if only he could go home just once. Just once to tell Kaoru goodbye. To tell her she didn't have to worry anymore about anything. She would always be protected, she would always have enough money and they would never, ever, take her house away.  
  
God, she was such an idiot, his sister didn't even know what kind of trouble she had been in.  
  
And, even though she was older, he was the man of the house. His responsibility to make sure she would be okay.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
The bank guy would come every day. Every single day. It was getting harder and harder to make sure Kaoru was out of the house at the right time. Harder and harder to make excuses. Every day that squirrelly little man would come by and tell Yahiko how much time his sister had left to pay up before the bank took their house, the Learning Center, the Apothecary too.  
  
She didn't have the money. And she didn't have any way to get it. Yahiko knew she didn't. All she had was that damned blackboard fund, and that wouldn't even pay a fifth of the money they needed. Besides, they would need that money when they got kicked out.  
  
So Yahiko did the only thing he could. He started pawning things from the attic. His mother's old kimonos. His father's rare books. Anything. Anything to keep the bank away for one more day.  
  
So one day, when the bank guy finally told him they only had one more week left, Yahiko thought that it was finally the end. He stood outside the gate, watching the squirrelly little man walk off.  
  
And that was when Frederick Aberdeen made his presence known. He had been standing by the lamppost, listening to every word.  
  
"Having problems with the bank, kid?"  
  
"What's it to you?" Yahiko asked, glaring at the man. How dare he eavesdrop?  
  
The tall American man took a large marble out of his pocket and rolled it between his fingers deftly, balancing it on the back of his hand for a moment before he bounced it up in the air and caught it.  
  
"You know the bank is as crooked as the cops, as crooked as everyone around here. Everyone is a criminal these days, especially in these parts. They think they can take advantage just because most everyone is an immigrant. I bet your sister doesn't owe half as much as they say."  
  
Yahiko stood stunned. He hadn't considered the possibility that the guy from the bank was lying about how much they owed.  
  
"Look, kid. They'll keep telling you that you owe more until you stop paying. Then they will take the house anyway. You can't win, the way you are going."  
  
"And what -exactly- do you propose I do, mister? Huh? If it is all so hopeless? Why don't you just make like a fan and blow?" Yahiko's fists balled at his side. He'd been in plenty of street fights. He could probably at least give the guy a good bite mark on his arm or something.  
  
"Calm down kid. I'm telling you I can help you out. Me and my friends, we gots ways of dealing with people that like to take advantage of others. Tell you what, you come to work for me, and I will get this whole bank mess cleared up for you. I'm Fredrick Aberdeen, head of the Borderlands Gang."  
  
"Can you really do that?" Yahiko felt skeptical. Adults were always trying to pull one over on kids, the bastards.  
  
"I tell you what. If that bank guy comes back tomorrow or the next day, you can write me off as a liar. But if he doesn't, you take this marble and head down to Alameda Street. Right past the bakery, there's an alleyway. Show the marble to the guy at the back of the alley, and he'll bring you to see me, and I will put you to work. I'll even give you a quarter a week. Deal?"  
  
As the man held out his hand, the giant glass marble twinkling in the sun, Yahiko hesitated. Something about this just -had- to be wrong. Maybe. Or maybe today was his lucky day. Maybe once in a while, the world really does give you a break.  
  
"Deal. On one condition. Never, ever again, call me 'kid'."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Things had gone well, really well, for the first few weeks. Mr. Aberdeen introduced him to the Borderlands Gang, and then all the other 'delivery boys'. There were five of them, all of different cultures, and they called themselves the Marble Squad. Mr. Aberdeen had given them a storage room in the back of the Rye House for their bikes and for playing marbles and cards and hanging out. Plus, they got all the root beer and Coca Cola they could drink.  
  
The Marble Squad really knew how to stick together too. They all stood up for each other, especially when any kids gave them trouble for being from other countries, for looking different or talking different. They'd left quite a few kids with black eyes.  
  
And then one day, just like that, it turned bad. He had been riding in one of the gang's automobiles with Joe Rosco, Mr. Aberdeen's right-hand man, and some of the other gang members, when suddenly the car came to a stop and the gang piled out and started shooting up a barber shop. Yahiko had heard Rosco tell him to stay in the car, stay down, but when he saw Rosco get shot, he couldn't just leave him by the side of the road. He climbed down and tried to pull the heavy-set man back inside.  
  
That's when the two policemen came around the corner.  
  
As the cops ran towards Yahiko, one of the other gang members reached out of the automobile, grabbed the Japanese kid by his collar, and threw him into the back of the car.  
  
The police had seen him. And now, now they would be looking for him to try to get him to squeal on Mr. Aberdeen.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Yahiko woke up in the same position. He rubbed his eyes. He hadn't seen the sun in almost a week. If only he could go outside, just for a little while, maybe he would stop feeling so sleepy all the time.  
  
Wait. Something was wrong. The music in the Rye House had stopped. No one was talking.  
  
"We're looking for the leader of the Borderlands Gang."  
  
The spiky-haired kid peered around the side of the counter. Who are these guys? Not cops, at least. They didn't look like cops. Geez. That one guy was wearing a trench coat in the middle of this heat wave? Must be crazy people. Dope heads or something.  
  
Jimmy Rosco, Joe's younger bother. swirled some ice around in his drink. "Eh? What makes you think he's here? And if he is here, what makes you think he wants to talk to you?" Yahiko watched as Jimmy set his drink down and pulled out his knife, a solid metal piece with a blade slightly longer than a man's hand. "Maybe you freaks should just scram."  
  
"Scram, Sano?" Kenshin asked, glancing at his partner.  
  
"You know. Get lost. Beat it. Leave," Sano replied. Kenshin always had to pick the worst moments for an English lesson.  
  
"No. I do not think we will scram, we won't."  
  
A flash of blue-white light flickered through the speakeasy. It jutted in Jimmy's direction. When Yahiko could see the cross-scarred man clearly again, he was tossing Jimmy's knife in the direction of his partner and re- sheathing a sword. The Italian man in the hat caught the knife without even glancing in his partner's direction.  
  
"Wow. Nice knife. Maybe you should get the grip re-done, though. Help you hold on to it a bit better."  
  
Yahiko couldn't believe his eyes. This guy was standing up to Jimmy the Knife. No. This guy had -defeated- Jimmy the Knife. Without Jimmy even getting any shots in.  
  
As the other guys in the speakeasy started to stand up, Kenshin put his hand behind his back, ready to draw.  
  
"That's enough," Mr. Aberdeen's voice boomed from the top of the stairs that led to his office, a gun leveled at the pair. "I'm Aberdeen. Leader of the Borderlands Gang. Now, what do you two want?"  
  
"We're here for Yahiko Kamiya."  
  
"Oh? The police hire you? That kid doesn't work here anymore. He took off. Couldn't hack it. Said he was going south to find work."  
  
Kenshin stepped forward, his head hanging forward somewhat, obscuring his eyes from the others in the room. "Unfortunately, I do not believe you."  
  
"Why the hell not?"  
  
"Because from what I understand, you have a good and decent heart, you do. You started this gang to help people out, people in trouble, people being preyed upon by forces they could not combat. Because you were tired of watching innocent people die. That's why you stopped me, just now, because you care about all the men who work for you. You can't stand to see them get hurt. No. You can not."  
  
"So?" Mr. Aberdeen replied, steadying his gun on the smaller of the two men.  
  
"So, a man like that wouldn't let a thirteen year old kid take off for parts unknown. You're protecting him, just like you protect all your men. Somewhere along the line, I know, I know, something went wrong, it did. Something happened that you couldn't control and started a chain reaction that you didn't know how to stop. You started sinking into a quicksand, and no matter how you tried, you couldn't get back out. Something snapped inside, and you became desperate, grasping at anything you could to try to pull yourself out of the mire."  
  
"Shut up. You don't know what you are talking about. You don't have any idea what it is like when people depend on you for their lives," Mr. Aberdeen replied, his gun trembling slightly.  
  
"But, I do know, Mr. Aberdeen. Because I am just like you. I used to be a regular guy, just trying to make my way in the world, I was. But, then my sister got sick. Really sick. I didn't know what to do, so I did the only thing I could. I took a contract with the Japanese mafia. I was their top assassin. I killed numerous people without remorse to save one girl, I did. I know all about the quicksand, Mr. Aberdeen, because I am still sinking. But, I think I have figured out a way for us both to get out."  
  
Aberdeen let his gun fall to his side. "I'm listening."  
  
"It is good to protect people, I think. The people we care for, they need us. But, when we kill people, when we steal or are dishonorable, we are only improving the lives of our loved ones for the moment. But, we endanger them in the long run, we do. Because there is always someone who will come for revenge, or a policeman clever enough to find us and put us in jail. And then, then who will protect them, when we are gone? No. I am not going to kill anyone anymore and neither are you. And maybe if we do that, we'll stop sinking. Maybe someone we save will even come one day and help us out of the mess we've gotten ourselves into."  
  
"Give this boy Yahiko back his life, Mr. Aberdeen. Don't put him on a path to a life of crime. Don't toss him into the quicksand just because you don't know how to get out."  
  
Mr. Aberdeen seemed lost for a moment. He took a deep breath as he placed his gun on the stairway railing. "Yahiko?"  
  
The Japanese boy pried himself out from behind the counter, his hair even more unruly than usual.  
  
"Do you want to go with these guys, Yahiko? Go home to your sister?"  
  
"Yeah. Kinda," Yahiko clenched his fist at his side before blurting out, "Yes, Mr. Aberdeen. I really, really do. And I won't tell the police anything, I promise."  
  
"If the police come looking for him, we'll tell them that you kidnapped Yahiko and that he doesn't know anything," Sano said, placing Jimmy's knife back on the table in front of its owner. "We'll cover for you. Unless we ever hear of your gang killing ever again, of course."  
  
"Alright. You go, Yahiko."  
  
The trio headed for the door, before they were stopped by Mr. Aberdeen's voice.  
  
"Hey, Yahiko!"  
  
The boy turned slowly, looking up the stairs at the gang leader. Was he going to change his mind?  
  
A glimmering object soared through the air, over the heads of all the patrons of the speakeasy. Yahiko jumped up and caught it easily in his right hand. He turned it over and looked at it for a moment before realizing what it was. A large marble.  
  
"Have a good life, kid."  
  
Yahiko smiled and nodded before tossing the marble back across the speakeasy. He was a pretty good throw, having played stickball in the street since he could hold a bat. Mr. Aberdeen caught the marble and looked at it inquisitively.  
  
"Thanks for everything, Mr. Aberdeen, but I won't be needing this anymore," Yahiko said turning back towards the door. He looked back over his shoulder one more time as he called out, "And don't call me -kid-."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"I can't -believe- you spent the blackboard and textbook fund to hire private investigators. Are you -stupid-? That was your entire life's savings!"  
  
"I'm the stupid one? You're the one who pawned all of our parents' things and got involved in a gang. Are you crazy, Yahiko? You could have gotten yourself -killed-!"  
  
This wasn't -exactly- the sort of family reunion that Sano and Kenshin had envisioned. The pair had been brawling since the moment Kaoru had stepped into their office. Hair pulling. Eye rolling. Poking each other. Throwing insults and accusations. The pair of detectives could only watch, wide-eyed, hoping not to get in the way.  
  
"Jeepers, sis. You get uglier every day. Didn't you even bathe while I was away?"  
  
"If I look bad, then it is -entirely- your fault. I couldn't sleep because I was worried about you, you idiot."  
  
"Well, maybe if you learned how to cook, I wouldn't have to join a gang to get some decent eats."  
  
"Why you little ungrateful lump, you are so grounded."  
  
"You can't ground me."  
  
Kenshin looked around to make sure neither of the pair were near any sharp objects while Sano sighed, "Maybe it would have been better for them both if we hadn't found Yahiko."  
  
The red-haired man stepped forward a bit and cleared his throat. Yahiko and Kaoru looked up from throttling each other, not really having realized since their reunion that anyone else was in the room. Both of them sat back in their chairs quietly as Kenshin said, "Hey Sano. Why don't you take Yahiko across the street to get some food. I'd like to speak to Miss Kamiya for a few minutes."  
  
"Hey great! I'm starving," Yahiko said, jumping up to pull Sano's arm in the direction of the door, "Come on, Mr. Giovanni."  
  
"Eh. Just call me Sano," the Italian said, pulling the door open. As the door closed, Kenshin could still hear his partner talking as he walked down the hall with Yahiko by his side. "You know, Yahiko, you'd look great in a fedora. We should get you one."  
  
"Really? You think so? That would be -swell-." 


	5. Escaping Springtime

To the Readers: Someone asked if Chapter 4 is the end. No. I really don't plan to end this story for quite a few more chapters. I promise, I'll let you know when we get there. :D  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~ Chapter 5 ~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Kenshin peered between the slats in the wooden window blinds at the road below, watching his partner and the young Yahiko eagerly picking up various fruits from a nearby produce stand. It had been some minutes now since the pair had left the office, and neither Kenshin nor Kaoru had said a word.  
  
The darkened office, with all of its dust and scattered papers seemed to reflect the turmoil within Kenshin's own soul. The only sounds came from the nearby sink which dripped endlessly. Plink. Plink. Plink.  
  
"Himura-san," Kaoru began, finally willing herself to break the silence, "You wished to speak to me?"  
  
The Japanese man removed his fingers from the window and let the slats fall back into place. He couldn't look at her. First he had frightened her by drawing his sword, and now this. Would he ever stop bringing such situations into the lives of people around him? This one, though, this situation required delicacy. Like an intricate puzzle-box from his homeland, he would need to bend and press and manipulate it in exactly the correct manner. If it was not properly resolved, she might go to the authorities. If only he had thought to ask Shinomori-san to give him a few lessons in diplomacy, or asked Misao-san to give him a few more lessons in manipulating others to see your way of thinking.  
  
"Miss Kamiya," Kenshin finally said, turning to look at the woman who sat on the other side of his desk. "I know you don't have the rest of the money to pay for our services. I am betting that the 'half' of the money you gave us at the Arabeko was all you had."  
  
Kaoru paled, the color from her face and hands seeming to instantly retreat into her eyes where it spent itself instantly on some unknown emotion. Was she naïve enough to be merely embarrassed? Or was she smart enough to realize that she had stiffed a yakuza assassin and a former mafia man? Let it be the former, Kenshin pleaded inwardly.  
  
Kaoru stood, no longer able to sit primly in the chair provided. She had to move. Movement brought thought, and thought brought action. Stillness had never been her forte. The woman began to wander around the small office, looking at fixtures, touching wall-hangings and photographs. 'Its like she has to touch everything. Like she can't fix it into reality unless she can feel its texture,' Kenshin mused.  
  
"How did you know, Himura-san?" Kaoru finally replied, moving a mop from against the wall and then putting it back.  
  
"Your brother is not, altogether, a quiet boy, he isn't. And the walk back from Alameda Street took quite some time, not to mention the half-hour we waited for you to arrive."  
  
Kaoru continued her impromptu inspection of everything in the office, occasionally bringing her fingers to her lips when she stood out of reach of anything interesting to touch. She stopped at the cracked-open door of the closet where Kenshin slept. The assassin's heart sunk as his mouth opened slightly to protest her actions. He found he could not speak. All the years of practicing absolute silence in tense and dangerous situations caught up with him. Kenshin pressed a fingernail into his now-clenched palm to help him focus.  
  
"Is this." Kaoru began, thought better of herself, and began again. "This is where you sleep." The fact that she had said it as a statement rather than a question caught Kenshin off-guard.  
  
"It is. For now."  
  
"Mmmm," was Kaoru's only reply as she closed the door again and turned to face him. She flicked her fingers upwards deftly to push back a few stray hairs that had fallen from her hat. "And after that?"  
  
How had the conversation changed from her embarrassment to his own? Kenshin couldn't tell who had the upper hand in the situation, he, the unflinching assassin, or she, the fidgety schoolteacher. He had only really ever known one young woman very well in his life, and his bashful and unassuming sister tended not to question her older brother.  
  
"After that, we shall see, we shall. The forces which control my life may send me elsewhere in this city, this country, or even the world. It is only for this moment that I have the liberty to live my life as I please."  
  
"Then it is true," Kaoru said, stepping towards the desk, seeming far too confident and unafraid for her years, "What Yahiko said about you being an assassin for the yakuza."  
  
Kenshin felt the weight of his reverse-blade sword against his back as he leaned forward and pressed both of his hands downward on the desk. Two pairs of eyes stared into one another, as if trying to see who would be the first to crack.  
  
"It is true." Kenshin had meant for his voice to come across as even and cold. To his surprise, it had somehow become tinged with an alarming sadness that -he- didn't even know he held inside. He searched Kaoru's countenance for signs of disappointment, but found himself blocked by her small smile which had arrived from nowhere like the first bird of spring.  
  
"And, what you said to the leader of that gang, that was also true? Do you fully intend to give up killing? To shed blood no more?"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Kenshin glanced at the clock in the train station as he ran. He knew he was late, but he hadn't realized -how- late. Pulling his winter jacket more securely around him, he dashed between patrons, between arrivals and departures that all seemed giddy in reunions and farewells.  
  
It had taken too long. His targets had been late. Shinomori-san had asked him to do this one last thing before he and Tsubame left for the seaside. How could he refuse? Three months of paid leave was certainly more than any man deserved.  
  
The train. Kenshin's eyes darted around the platform. She wasn't there. She must already be on board. Thank goodness she hadn't missed the train. Had she?  
  
The assassin thrust his ticket at the conductor and pushed past him rudely. He had to make sure Tsubame was already on board. They couldn't wait another day, not another day. The flowering plants and trees around the city had already begun to bloom. His sister had already had two attacks this week, the worst Kenshin had ever seen. The doctors had told them, when she was young, that with the years her condition would get worse, or get better. It seemed that the former had come to pass.  
  
Kenshin darted to their designated compartment.  
  
The young Tsubame stood, her violin case on the floor by her side, in the doorway, looking hopelessly sad, her eyes red from crying out her worry and fear, errant strands of her hair sticking to the wetness of her face.  
  
"Tsubame! Aie, I am so late. I am sorry, I am sorry," Kenshin mumbled as he threw his arms around his little sister, burying her in the open flaps of his coat. "I'm so sorry. I will make it up to you, I will."  
  
He pressed her close, inhaling the scent of her hair. Clean. Unfettered by the scented soaps or perfumes most other girls used.  
  
But then, suddenly, he heard Tsubame's breath catch. He pulled away from her slowly, and only then realized what had happened.  
  
His sister's face, arms, and hands were smudged with blood. Oh Kami-sama. His last targets. Had he even looked at himself before dashing off? Kenshin's sister backed away from him slowly, bringing her arms up to examine them as she gasped for breath, the air in her throat turning into that horrible sound that the diminutive assassin dreaded . As if she was trying to pull a lung full of air through the tiniest of straws.  
  
"Oh no. No Tsubame. Close your eyes. Close your eyes."  
  
As she did so, Kenshin realized her knees were buckling. With quickness even he didn't realize possible, he scooped up his younger sister and laid her lengthwise on the berth. Kicking his back leg out to catch the wooden door behind him, he slammed it shut. No one else needed to see this.  
  
Kenshin frantically pulled off Tsubame's hat and pushed her bangs back as his sister's stayed squinted closed, her face scrunched up as she tried to draw in air that just wouldn't come.  
  
"Ken.shin.."  
  
"No, Tsubame. Shhh. Shhh," Kenshin pleaded as he loosened the top of her yukata. "Now. Small breaths. Yes. Just a little breath," the assassin looked around the compartment for a source of liquid. Thankfully, the train had provided each sleeping berth with a small pitcher of water. "Small breaths," Kenshin continued as he stood up slowly, "I'll be right back Tsubame, I shall. You keep your eyes closed and keep listening to my voice. Just little bird breaths, they are."  
  
As he dabbed a nearby hand cloth into the water, Kenshin remembered what the doctor had told him. When she had her attacks, it was best to guide her through them using the calmest voice possible. The more she relaxed, the less prolonged and intense the attacks would be.  
  
"There. Little birds, remember? And now you can feel their wings on your wrists." As Tsubame's lips parted, searching once again for air, Kenshin placed his fingers on her wrists and began to thump slowly, softly. The rhythm would help her, he knew. Subconsciously it would work on her mind, help her heart slow down its frenzied pace, and help it stop trying to search for so much oxygen. Whatever the doctors knew, Kenshin knew. He had made certain of that.  
  
It took several minutes before the younger Himura's breathing returned to normal. Or, as normal as things got for Tsubame. Putting his free hand near her face, he could still barely feel the air passing through her parted lips.  
  
Tsubame, covered in sticky sweat and the remnants of someone else's blood, finally murmured one word, "Sleepy."  
  
"Yes. I know," Kenshin replied, lifting his sister's arms gently to wash them with the hand cloth. "You sleep. When you wake, we will go and have a lovely feast in the dining car, that we will."  
  
No reply came from his sister. 'After that, plus all the worry about me being late, no wonder she's so tired,' Kenshin's inner thoughts whispered.  
  
"Kenshin?" a tiny voice murmured as Tsubame's fingers flickered, as if motioning towards something on the other side of the compartment. "Present."  
  
Waiting until once again sure that his sister was asleep, the young man stood and looked at the opposite seat. A small rice-paper box sat neatly wrapped with a blue ribbon. Kenshin opened it slowly. Inside sat a brass pocket watch. She must have picked it up in one of the shops at the train station.  
  
Kenshin held it up to the light. Nothing fancy, no scroll-work or engravings, but still a precious gift nonetheless.  
  
As the red-haired man turned the watch over in his hand, he looked at his sleeping sister. The train had started sometime during the past few minutes, and now the city's scenery slowly melted away to the vast openness of the countryside. In a few hours, they would be by the seaside, the fresh air of the ocean filling and healing all wounds.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"And, what you said to the leader of that gang, that was also true? Do you fully intend to give up killing? To shed blood no more?"  
  
The words run in Kenshin's ears. Did he really mean to do it? Did he have the strength, the bravery, to pull his life away from the only thing he had ever known: the sword?  
  
"I do," the young man replied softly as his wild red bangs fell over his eyes, his head bowing slightly.  
  
Even with his view mostly obscured, Kenshin could see the wide smile blossoming across the woman's face. Shaking him momentarily from his thoughts, it seemed as if she had willed joy into his soul merely with the radiance that emanated from her visage.  
  
"Then, if you will permit, I have a proposal, Himura-san."  
  
"Please. Call me Kenshin."  
  
"Ah. Kenshin. I have a rather strange idea. Hear me out," Kaoru moved away from the desk, picking up a small framed picture of Sano's mother and tilting her head in thought. "I really only use the front room of the Learning Center for classes. But, behind it are some other rooms. Originally bedrooms, I now only use them for storing books. If I cleaned them out, and asked Meg to lend me some of her space in the Apothecary, I think we could arrange living space for you there."  
  
Kaoru put the picture back down and before a confused Kenshin could protest, she continued, "In payment for services rendered in finding Yahiko, of course. And as for Yahiko, well, it would be good for him to have a man nearby. I mean, I do my best with him, but the boy is growing. Maybe if he had someone he could turn to, someone who wasn't his sister, it would do him good."  
  
"Miss Kamiya," Kenshin said, "I don't think you understand what you are asking. I've told you, I don't think I am exactly the kind of person you would want Yahiko to look up to."  
  
"No. The person you -used- to be isn't the kind of person I would want Yahiko to know. But, that isn't the man I am talking to. I am talking to the man who saved my brother. The man who I am asking to stay is the one who no longer lives by taking the lives of others. I am asking Himura Kenshin the detective, not Himura Kenshin the assassin."  
  
What could he say to such a mesmerizing plea? And how could someone who knew him so very little believe in him so very much? But having someone put their faith in you is an intoxicating drug, and Kenshin already felt dizzy from the effects.  
  
"I would like that very much, Miss Kamiya."  
  
"Good! Tomorrow then, Kenshin? If you come by and help us re-arrange the back rooms, everything will go so much faster."  
  
"Of course."  
  
Kaoru beamed brightly at him as she adjusted her hat and bent down to grab her purple-beaded handbag from the wooden chair. As she stood, she felt the pressure on her wrist. A hand. Strange. She hadn't even heard him walk around the desk.  
  
"Wait," Kenshin whispered. Kaoru looked up into lavender-tinged eyes, "There was one more thing I wanted."  
  
Kaoru felt the man tremble slightly. He seemed to be slightly nervous, as his downcast gaze avoided her face. "Yes, Kenshin?"  
  
"I was wondering, hoping really, that perhaps you could also give me a few lessons in reading English? If it wasn't too much trouble, that is?"  
  
"On the contrary. I would be absolutely delighted." 


	6. Twin Terrors

To the Readers: Someone commented that it would be nice if Tsubame would show up to live in the states. Well, not yet. Not yet. Kenshin can't go back to Japan to pick her up until Aoshi tells him that their business in San Francisco is finished. Even though he has sworn to no-longer kill, he still has many ties to the Tokyo yakuza.  
  
This short chapter does absolutely –nothing- to advance the story. I just thought a bit of humor might once again be in order after the intensity of Kaoru and Kenshin's last meeting.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~ Chapter 6: ~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Kenshin held his hand in front of his face and flexed it several times as blood seemed to rush to his fingers. It seemed as if every ounce of his body's life-sustaining liquid wished to race towards the hand that had just gripped Kaoru's wrist. As if the now-warmed blood wished to rejoice by swirling about in some maddening aboriginal dance designed to melt the unseen winter snows right beneath his fingertips.  
  
Her parting footsteps still rung in his ears, the gentle tap of each lavender slipper on the tile floor. But, the echo of her parting soon found itself dissolving to a new noise, the heavy clomp of Sanoretti's overly-shined shoes.  
  
A few minutes later, Kenshin had completely forgotten his reverie, and instead stood behind his desk, a chair raised in front of his face as if he were defending himself from a rabid animal's attack.  
  
"SHE WHAT??? That little minx. I can't believe she -stiffed- us. And I can't believe you -let- her get away with it. What is your fucking -problem-, Kenshin?"  
  
Kenshin deftly dodged yet another plum being thrown directly at his forehead by deflecting it with the chair. He wondered if he could count this as "experience" if he ever decided to join the circus.  
  
"I do believe you are ruining the lovely fruit basket you bought for your mother, you are," Kenshin mumbled, deciding that trying to diffuse the situation through force or attempted escape would probably only agitate the Italian.  
  
"I'll fucking abduct that annoying little brother of hers and harness him to the front of a carriage and make him work off the debt as a human taxi! And then, and then I'll force her to get a job as a beekeeper, and then....I will make them both roll around in the dumpster in back of Mr. Liu's Restaurant...and then...I'll introduce them to my mother..." The Italian's brown eyes flashed as he searched his brain for proper tortures for his former clients.  
  
"It is just money, Sano," Kenshin pleaded quietly after making sure the chair was properly position to defect any additional fruit bombardment.  
  
"But..." the Italian began, his voice wavering slightly higher as he dropped a small orange back into the basket, "But, I -like- money."  
  
Sensing the tantrum had subsided, Kenshin carefully placed the chair back on the ground and walked cautiously towards his partner. The shorter man placed a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder. "I know. I know."  
  
"I really do, Kenshin. I like money. I like the way it feels in my hands. I like the way it smells..."  
  
Kenshin carefully guided his partner out the door, "I know. Let's get you to a speakeasy, and you can tell me all about it, you can. I'll buy."  
  
The Italian man continued to babble as they walked down the hall, "Hell, I even like the way it tastes."  
  
Kenshin, who had previously been suppressing a smile at his partner's amusing antics, now felt his eyes go wide in confusion.  
  
"Oro?" The expression both his father and grandfather often uttered in similar situations tumbled from the befuddled Kenshin's lips.  
  
Sano shrugged and replied, "Hey. I wasn't always the strappingly handsome and supremely brawny man you see before you today. To tell the truth, in school I got beat up a lot. Ma would give me some pennies sometimes so I could pick things up on the way home. After the kids took to ripping my pockets out and throwing my shoes on rooftops, I decided the best place to keep the money was in my mouth."  
  
Although the explanation made sense in a rather Giovanni-logic way, Kenshin couldn't quite shake the dual images of young Sano being scrawny and the look that must have crossed many a shopkeeper's face when the boy produced payment for goods.  
  
"I feel sorry for her," Kenshin mumbled.  
  
"Eh? Who? Kaoru?"  
  
"No, Giovanni," came a mournful reply, "The woman who finally consents to be your wife."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
If there was one thing that Kenshin knew, it was this: people change slowly, but lives change quickly. It had taken him all of his 22 years to become the vessel that held all of the convictions, desires, goals and hopes, the vessel known as Himura Kenshin. To grow from a rambunctious child whose eyes grew wide at the sight of his father's sakabatou, to the man who now felt he truly understood the meaning of that same sword took all of his 22 years of life.  
  
On the other hand, lives change quickly. Tsubame's birth. His parents' death. Becoming an assassin. Being assigned to the States. All the events that fate had thrust upon him had come like lightning, unbidden in the night. And while they changed the circumstances of his existence, they did not seem to change the essential essence of Himura Kenshin.  
  
No. True change, inner change, took much time.  
  
That is why, as he rose from his cot, less than 48 hours from the first time he met Kaoru Kamiya, many doubts still clouded his mind. But, like an alcoholic having sworn off the poison he knew to be corroding his body, the young ex-assassin tried his very hardest to put his best face forward in greeting this new era of his life.  
  
Packing his meager things into a burlap bag he'd borrowed from the Giovanni household, Kenshin chuckled inwardly to himself as he caught sight of Tsubame's picture. How she would laugh if she saw him wearing Western clothes, if she knew he was working with an uncouth Italian man and accepting and invitations to live with eccentric schoolteacher that he hardly even knew.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Yahiko met Kenshin at the Learning Center gate. Yahiko explained that he was waiting for the newspaper. Actually, he was waiting for the newspaper -boy- who was one of his friends, and had acquired a baseball card that the Yahiko wanted to see. But, waiting for the newspaper sounded a lot more adult than the other explanation.  
  
"You have had breakfast, right?"  
  
Kenshin hadn't. In fact, today was the first day in many weeks that he hadn't gone to breakfast at the Giovanni house. And while he felt a bit glad to not have to participate in the Italian-American version of urban warfare for once, he -was- hungry. But, he had wanted to get working on moving boxes while the morning was still cool, not for his own sake, but for the sake of those helping him.  
  
"I have not."  
  
"Just. Tell her. You have already had breakfast. For the love of crimony, man, tell her you've already eaten!" It wasn't until he had finished blurting this ominous warning that Yahiko realized he had been shaking Mr. Himura by the lapels of his trench coat. A quirked eyebrow caused Yahiko to let go of Mr. Himura's collar with a small shrug. "Well. I warned you." And with that, the spiky-haired boy started wandering down the sidewalk, whistling to himself.  
  
This left Kenshin to open the gate while wondering if "Crimony" was one of the Learning Center residents he had not yet met. This pondering, the thorough shaking he had just been given by a 13-year-old boy, plus the rather large potato sack he carried caused his attention to be drawn away from the woman with the pruning shears bent over a nearby clump of vegetation.  
  
And thus, in a comic effort unmatched by the silver screen's Keystone Cops, Kenshin Himura went flying into the air. He landed squarely on stomach, covered by half the contents of portion of the burlap bag which he had expertly maneuvered to break his fall.  
  
Meg Takani looked up from her gardening, holding up her shears daintily and blinking in an overly-feminine show of concern.  
  
"Mr. Himura, I presume?" The dazed man could only nod vaguely in response. "Are you quite alright?"  
  
"Yes. I didn't hurt you, Miss, when I tripped, did I?" Kenshin asked, furiously stuffing his things back into the sack.  
  
"Only my heart, Mr. Himura," Meg replied, gently fluttering a free hand over the specified area, "Only my heart." Ms. Takani stood and offered a hand to the newcomer, helping him up. "Meg Takani."  
  
"Himura Kenshin."  
  
"Yes," Meg purred, her East Coast accent dripping like syrup from her lips, "I know."  
  
Kenshin attempted a polite smile and bow of the head, but kept his eyes on the herbalist. Although her features defined her as Japanese, little of the culture seemed to shine through. Unlike Kaoru Kamiya, Meg Takani wore an air of practiced elegance cultivated by American women. Her sky-blue dress was covered by a beige gardening apron tied primly at the waist, an outfit which complimented her ruby lips and sparkling eyes. But, the way she held herself spoke volumes about her background. Head held high, rather than slightly bowed, graceful shoulders and back set in an immaculate posture. Kenshin could imagine her trading her pruning shears for balcony seats and opera glasses without a problem.   
  
"Do let us become good friends, mmm, Mr. Himura? Yes. I should like that –very- much."   
  
Kenshin could only nod again as the woman folded her pruning shears and put them in the front pocket of her apron. Delicately, she put her hands around his upper arm and guided him up the path, as one might do when walking towards some elegantly upper-class evening affair.  
  
"I do hope you have had breakfast already, Mr. Himura."  
  
Why did everyone keep saying that?  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Blocks away, on the outskirts of Little Italy, Mrs. Giovanni was inspecting a rather interesting basket of fruit her son had given her.  
  
"Sanoretti, all this fruit is bruised. What did you do, go in back of the market and pick up all the ones the vendors threw out?"  
  
"Cripes, Ma, I try to do something nice for you for once and all you can do is bitch."  
  
Ava-May and Suzy-May giggled at the swear word as Mrs. Giovanni swatted her son on the back of the head.  
  
"Not in front of the girls, Sano. Now don't you go drinking tonight. Tomorrow is Sunday, and I'm not having you hung over at Church. I mean, that –must- be in the Bible somewhere. No hangovers at Church. You remember last time, you were sick all over Mrs. Thompson and I was so embarrassed because she told everyone that my son was a good-for-nothing lout that ruined her best dress. Here's your bacon, doctor. Ava, darling, be a good girl and sit in your chair while you are drinking your juice. Where's Kenshin, Sano?"  
  
"Eh? Ma, you going deaf? I told you. He's moving in with that Kamiya girl this morning." Sano replied as he put his feet up on the table and tilted his chair back to read the newspaper.   
  
"Feet off the table, Sanoretti!!!" And before he could even comply, Mrs. Giovanni had kicked the two chair legs still on the ground out from underneath her son. Sano toppled over like a house of cards.  
  
"JESUS CHRIST, MA!" the Italian man howled from the floor before realizing what he had said.  
  
He could still hear his mother's frantic yelling in their native language when he finally stopped running to catch his breath three blocks away.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"I'll leave him in your expert care, then, Kaoru. I should start making room in the back of the Apothecary if we are to move your supplies over," Meg said, thrusting a rather dazed-looking ex-assassin into the kitchen.  
  
Kaoru had her back to them both as she poked at –something- on the stove, but turned her head to smile and nod before returning to the task at hand.  
  
"Oh Meg, would you like some breakfast?"  
  
Kenshin had never seen a woman move that fast.   
  
"She's already gone, Miss Kaoru."  
  
"Oh well, more for us, then," the young schoolteacher replied sweetly, setting a large plate of unidentifiable food in front of her new tenant.   
  
The two began to eat breakfast, one across from another in Kaoru's purple-themed kitchen. Kenshin tasted the food tentatively. Yes. Indeed. It did taste as bad as it smelled. Smile through the pain, Himura, smile through the pain. After a few bites, Kenshin placed his chopsticks aside and admitted defeat.  
  
"You certainly didn't eat very much, Kenshin."  
  
"Oh. I...I ate earlier this morning, Miss Kaoru."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
It didn't take long to move the various boxes, books and chairs out of the back rooms of the Learning Center, especially when Sano showed up unexpectedly and offered to help, murmuring something about "Escape from the terrible hag of the West Coast" while crossing himself repeatedly.   
  
Kaoru produced an old mattress from the attic, one of the few things Yahiko had been unable to pawn. With that the crew left Kenshin to arrange his few belongings in his new bedroom.   
  
Thankfully, Kenshin noticed, the room wasn't painted purple. 


	7. The Brownie Affair

To the Readers: Thank you for waiting on this chapter. I hope it is to your liking. I haven't exactly been busy, but I have been working no other writing projects here on ff.net. If you like Hot and Cold, be sure to check them out!  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Chapter 7 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Sano stood against a wall of the Apothecary, hands shoved in his pockets, hat pulled low. Chewing on a toothpick, he absorbed the atmosphere of the darkened shop. Cedar incense smoke swirled and pooled in square strips of light that burst through the window. Wall cases displayed pre-packaged teas, jars of both dried and fresh flowers, fungi, fish and crustaceans. Larger dried goods hung in bundles from the ceiling, twirling randomly when they would catch an errant breeze. Behind the counter, Meg kept the jars of the more unusual and rare products such as pickled snakes, or extracts from various animal organs, as well as her books and files on customers.  
  
Meg stood behind the counter, crushing a rather disturbing-looking dried mushroom with her mortar and pestle while looking down at the pages of a book. Occasionally, she would stop to momentarily rifle through a set of small bottles behind the counter, and pull out the tiniest pinch of some other substance, adding it to the brew. Sano watched the delicate dance of the herbalist's work with interest, wondering how long she had been in such a profession.  
  
"So," he began, pulling one hand out of his pocket to pick up and examine a dried fish head, "Does this stuff really work?"  
  
Meg looked up, still crushing her concoction with conviction. "Mmm. Perhaps you tell me, yourself, after you try it?"  
  
"Did you go to school or something to learn this these things?" Sano asked, sniffing at the fish head and wrinkling his nose slightly.  
  
"And you, did you go to school to become a private investigator, Mr. Giovanni?"  
  
"Touche."  
  
After a few more moments of silence, Sano shifted his weight impatiently and tried yet another question. "So. How long you been doing this?"  
  
Meg stopped pounding the herbal concoction and stared at Sano. He watched one of her nails tap against the side of the mortar, producing a rapid click. "You ask far too many impertinent questions, but I suppose that is what makes you good at your profession, hm?"  
  
'Why does this man rile me so easily? I am usually so good with defending myself verbally,' Meg thought, regarding the oblivious Italian across the room. 'Perhaps it is his mere persistence. Most men would have taken a hint and shut up by now. Hm. Perhaps another tactic is in order.'  
  
"Strip."  
  
The one word hung in the air like the word "fire" at a gunpoint execution. Meg studied Sano out of the corner of her eye hawkishly, looking for any indication of what emotions might play out at her command. But the Italian merely continued chewing on his toothpick working it slowly to the other side of his mouth, his eyes covered by the brim of his hat.   
  
"Why, Miss Takani, I didn't know you felt that way," replied Sano finally, his voice dripping with sarcasm so thick it could clog a pipe.   
  
It was such a perfect performance that Meg couldn't help but throw back her head and let out one of her patent laughs.   
  
'That woman laughs at the strangest things,' Sano thought, finally moving his hands up to unbutton his shirt. 'She's either certifiable, or so repressed she can't tell seriousness from humor.'  
  
Meg picked up a few strips of recently-boiled white cloth and headed towards the now-shirtless Italian. She motioned to a stool, and Sano sat, his back to her, the giant purple bruise on his shoulder and upper back exposed to the herbalist.  
  
"It will feel cool."  
  
Sano nodded as the woman poured a small bit of water into the powder she had ground and used her fingers to mix it into a paste. As she began to apply the tincture, she once again spoke.  
  
"I have run this Apothecary since my father was killed. I believe that was, hm, about three years ago now. Kaoru and Yahiko's parents died the same month as my father, and that is how we met, strangely enough, in a cemetery. Their boarder, who used to run a flower shop here, had moved back east, and they needed a new tenant."  
  
The tall man felt his shoulder muscle flinch a few times as Meg's expert fingers rubbed the soothing poultice into his bruised back,   
  
"My father, also, had been an herbalist. But, the people who killed him burned most of his shop."  
  
"He was murdered?"  
  
"He was," Meg replied sadly, her clipped voice a bit uneven for once.   
  
"Did they find the culprits?" Sano asked, eagerly, hoping justice had been served.  
  
"No. But, it doesn't matter. They made it pretty clear who they were."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"My mother's relatives," Meg replied, rubbing the goo into one of Sano's joints just a little bit -too- harshly, causing the tall man to utter an expletive not meant for feminine ears.   
  
"My apologies, Mr. Giovanni."  
  
Sensing that talking any more on the topic would bring both people in the room pain, Sano said, "Why don't we change the subject?"  
  
"Indeed," Meg replied, as she began to cover her herbal concoction with strips of cloth. "Do tell me all about that interesting partner of yours."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Kenshin looked around his room with a penetrating gaze. Simple. Clean. Functional. A single window that looked across the side-garden towards the next house over. A mattress, a blanket, and a rickety old wardrobe for storing his things. Not much more was needed in life, in the way of material possessions.   
  
The ex-assassin listened to the sounds of the old Victorian, attempting to memorize them so he would know later which sounds were out of place. Old habits die hard. So, the young red-headed man placed his ear against the wall.  
  
He heard the normal sounds of American houses. Creaks and groans, old piping and wood expanding in the heat. Wind chimes fluttered somewhere beyond the structure, tinkling only gently in the summer's lack of wind. And then he heard the most interesting noise, one coming from nearby. At first, it reminded him of shuriken, something small tearing through the air. But the resulting hit of the object only made a soft *thwip* noise.  
  
*Thwip* *Thwip* *Thwip*  
  
Kenshin finally discerned it was coming from the room across the hallway. Carefully, he slipped off his heavy American shoes and padded lithely into the hall. The door across from him was closed, but he could definitely hear the sound more clearly.   
  
Timing his movements to the rhythm, sakabatou now at his side, Kenshin braced himself and then opened the door with supernatural speed.  
  
Something went whizzing past his head, barely missing his ear, and stuck in the opposite wall. Kenshin rushed inside and found himself staring at a rather startled Kaoru sitting at a desk.  
  
"Ken...Kenshin."  
  
"Miss Kaoru...I...apologize...I heard..." The confused young man turned his head slowly to look at the door. A corkboard had been hung there, and several small squares of thick colored paper stuck out of it like a strange array of international flags. Kenshin looked behind him in the hallway, and found that the objects which had whizzed past his head were also squares of paper, which had now become lodged in the opposite doorpost.  
  
Kenshin plucked one of the squares out of the corkboard and turned it over and over, examining it in his hand.  
  
"I didn't mean to frighten you, Kenshin. I toss them while I read," Kaoru lifted a book off the desk slightly as if to prove her point, "Old habits die hard, I suppose."  
  
"Old habits?" Kenshin ran his finger over the texture of the paper. Something seemed strange about the paper. It seemed too heavy, and the edges weren't smooth, but rough, as if they hadn't been cut by machinery.  
  
"Yes. My father worked in the largest library here in San Francisco. He worked his way up from shelving books to being one of the top librarians, you see. A great accomplishment for a foreigner. But, then, he -was- fluent in many languages and had quite a compendium of degrees."  
  
"I'm afraid I don't understand, Miss Kaoru," Kenshin replied, stepping quietly across the room to hand the small square of paper back to Kaoru.   
  
"Well, you see, when I was a very young girl, even before I could read, he used to take me to work with him sometimes. To keep me quiet, he taught me how to toss old library cards and catalogue cards into a wastepaper basket from across the room. Made a game of it, you see."  
  
Kenshin nodded, beginning to get the idea as he looked around the room. Floor to ceiling bookshelves sported books of every size and color. Besides Kaoru's desk, a nice oak table sat at the other end of the office, a few high-backed chairs nearby. The table itself, as well as the bookcases, also displayed a myriad of paper creations of all sorts, lovely displays of origami.   
  
"After years and years of tossing cards, well, I have to admit, I can hit about anything. These are special ones. They are made not only with cotton fibers, but also metal shavings, so they stick in the corkboard easily," Kaoru explained as she took the card from Kenshin and held it up to a nearby electrical lamp so he could see the metal shavings.  
  
"Very clever, Miss Kaoru!" He wasn't actually sure if it -was- clever, but Kenshin at least felt relieved to find out Miss Kaoru hadn't been in any danger. Besides, while he'd heard of ninja groups still existing, he hadn't actually ever run -into- any, amazingly enough. His father's stories of ninja exploits made him more than glad that he hadn't.   
  
"You frightened me...bursting in here like that. You had a look on your face that..." Kaoru looked down at her book, chewing her bottom lip slightly as she searched for words, "...well...had me worried."  
  
Kenshin felt suddenly rooted to the floor, his body oddly heavy. He tried shifting his weight to see if he could obtain leverage to get himself to move from the spot. Bushy red bangs fell in his face as he looked down at his hands and then away, staring at a cluster of books to his left so as not to catch Kaoru's eye. The very last thing he wanted to do was to make Kaoru feel unsafe in her own home. "I'm very sorry, I am. I hadn't meant to startle you, Miss Kaoru."  
  
"Its alright, Kenshin. I think I understand. You've lived a life probably very different from what any of us could imagine. It may take some time before you find yourself at peace...even in a peaceful place."  
  
Kenshin attempted a smile at her words, but decided to drop the smile almost immediately. He didn't wish to look frightening, and he knew that a forced smile caused him to either look stupid, or predatorial.  
  
"Kenshin...I was wondering. Do you always carry that sword with you everywhere you go?"  
  
Kenshin's fingers played across the hilt of the sword hanging at his side. Certainly, he couldn't remember a time he'd been without it since the death of his parents. But, even before then, the strange old sword had played a prominent part in his family's life. The sakabatou had been treated with such unquestionable and dutiful respect by his father, so much so that he almost felt the sword to be a wizened old ancestor. Of course, that had changed when he had joined the yakuza, becoming their foremost assassin and...  
  
'Oh father, grandfather. How I have failed you. How I have failed to uphold all that you kept dear and sacred,' Kenshin thought as he removed his fingers from the sword's hilt, suddenly feeling quite unworthy to touch the sword which had once protected the whole of Japan.  
  
"Yes. Yes, I keep it with me always, I do. I hope you will not...think poorly of me because of it." Kenshin tried hard to restrain the hopelessness in his voice while saying this. 'Perhaps Miss Kaoru worries that I am a coward who has to clutch his sword at every moment. Or worse, perhaps she is frightened that I am psychotic. But, I don't particularly sense fear in her. Just gentleness and compassion.'  
  
"No. I do not think poorly of you, Kenshin. Just, please be careful. This isn't Japan. I know you know how to use that sword but, the rules of one world may not apply to the other."  
  
"Yes, Miss Kaoru. I shall try to keep that in mind, I shall."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Dear Tsubame-chan,  
  
I hope this letter finds you in good health, my sister. I received your recent letter, and I am glad that you are finding life in the Shinomori household to be pleasant. Miss Misao can be quite bossy, yes, but she does have your best interests in mind. She is right. You must never, ever forget to take your leather medicine case with you, even if you are just walking across the street to the bakery.  
  
I am still uncertain when I may be able to return. Yes, I do hope I can return before springtime, but you must not get your hopes up. Please do not worry about me, dear sister, everything will be fine for both of us, you will see.  
  
San Francisco's heat wave has finally ended, though you wouldn't much notice if you lived here, as we haven't really had a good reprieve from the heat as of yet. Nonetheless, the summer in this country hasn't been too dreadful. Mr. Giovanni and I have fans in the office, and Miss Kaoru's house has many wonderful shade trees.  
  
I am quite enjoying living with the Kamiya household. Miss Kaoru is quite a clever lady, except...really...when it comes to cooking. Her brother, Yahiko, may look Japanese, but he's pure American as far as I can tell. Tomorrow afternoon, supposedly, he's going to teach me the rules of baseball.  
  
In the mornings, I usually leave before anyone in the house is awake. Best to escape Kaoru's cooking. My excuse is that I have to pick up Sano, save him rather, from his mother. But, really, you know me. I like to get my thoughts straight with a quiet walk in the morning.   
  
Sano and I "work" in the mornings, though, work is a relative term when it comes to Giovanni-san. Besides, there isn't always much to be done, if we do not have a case...which we haven't for a while. Yahiko generally comes up to the office when it gets too hot outside to run around with his friends. I do not know if he will continue this practice when school starts again in fall, but he might.  
  
Miss Kaoru's classes are often at odd times. Right now she teaches one in the early morning, for children, and one in the early evening, for adults. So, by the time I get back, she's teaching and doesn't seem to mind if I make dinner for the household. Yahiko and Miss Meg, of course, are ecstatic.  
  
After dinner we usually all congregate on the porch. Miss Kaoru has given me an English textbook, but progress on that front is going slowly.   
  
Anyway, I hope you like the sheet music I have included. It is from "Dreams Just Dreams" by Richard Howard, and Miss Kaoru says it was quite popular here a few years back. The music is for piano, but I am sure you can find a way to adapt it to violin.  
  
Please write me soon. I miss you desperately and think about you every day, my dear sister.   
  
Himura Kenshin  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"SANORETTI GIOVANNI!"  
  
"Oh my god, how did she find me?" Sano asked, already hopping down off the Learning Center porch to find an appropriate patch of bushes in which to hide. "Kenshin, I have a feeling this is your fault."  
  
"Oro?" Kenshin replied, looking up from the English textbook he had on his lap. He'd been sitting against a wall, trying desperately to comprehend a verb congregation when the ruckus began. Of course, it -was- his fault, but he wasn't about to tell Sano. Mrs. Giovanni had asked him how to find the Kamiya Learning Center earlier in the week, and he really couldn't have...in all politeness...told her to buzz off.  
  
"Who's that?" Yahiko asked. He had been laying on his stomach on the porch railing, pouring over a comic book. Well, he read the comic book when he wasn't fighting with his sister. In her opinion 'That tripe you read will rot your brains and you ought to read a proper book before you become as dumber than a lamp post.'  
  
"Its Mrs. Giovanni, it is!" Kenshin replied.   
  
Kaoru and Meg looked at each other from the two rocking chairs on the porch, and burst out into giggles as Sano peeked over the bush, looking incredibly frightened.   
  
"You mean, some kind woman actually deigned to give birth to your partner, Kenshin?" Meg asked, covering her smirk with a hand.  
  
Kenshin nodded slightly as he stood and headed towards the gate.  
  
"Oh me," Meg whispered, "And here all along I had been under the mistaken impression that he arrived directly from some lower level of hell."  
  
"What was that?" Sano asked, shooting up out of the bushes just as his mother came into view. "Crap."  
  
Kenshin ushered Mrs. Giovanni into the gate, found himself buried in the aging woman's embrace, and then suddenly alone as the Italian matron headed directly for her son. Grabbing Sano by the ear, she pulled him out of the bushes.  
  
"Where have you been? You missed dinner! I've been worried sick."  
  
"Oi ma, but Kenshin fed me. And as you can see, I'm perfectly Ok. I'm not out drinking or gambling or fighting or anything."  
  
"True," Mrs. Giovanni said, seeming not at all convinced as her eyes narrowed to examine her son. "Though maybe you were out earlier drinking. Let me smell your breath."  
  
"But ma...."  
  
By now the entire porch had erupted in so much laughter as the Japanese contingent witnessed the family affairs of the Italians.  
  
"He's been with me all day, Mrs. Giovanni, he has. Hasn't had anything to drink all day," Kenshin fibbed. Of course, his partner did have the usual beer or two with lunch, but nothing unusual. Trusting Kenshin, Mrs. Giovanni dropped her son's ear unceremoniously and let a smile once again grace her face.  
  
"Oooo. You must be Kaoru, you pretty dear. The schoolteacher. Kenshin's told me all about you. Come here. Give an old lady a hug. Don't worry about your cooking, I'll help you with that. But, aren't you a lovely young thing. We'll be such good friends. And you must be Yahiko. Now you get down off that railing before you fall and hurt yourself. Oh, but aren't you a fine young man of the household. Strange, you remind me of Sano at his age. You're not a troublemaker, are you? No. I didn't think so. Here, have one of these brownies I brought. And you, you must be Miss Meg. Oh, so elegant, and such dainty hands. You really must tell me how you keep them from getting torn up in your gardening. Sano tells me I should ask you all about this rash I have here on my leg. Really, child, there is no need to scowl like that at my son, your precious little face will stick like that, you know."  
  
By the time Mrs. Giovanni had finished making her own 'introductions', the entire porch had gone silent. Mostly because everyone, excluding Sano and Kenshin, were wondering if the woman ever actually needed to -breathe-. Plus, everyone seemed more than mildly confused as to whether Mrs. Giovanni had complemented them, or insulted them. But the matronly woman said everything with such friendly aplomb, that it seemed hard to think ill of her.  
  
That is, it was silent until Yahiko put the brownie he had been handed into his mouth.  
  
"Oh my god, this is -delicious-. May I have another?" Yahiko asked, getting off the railing like he had been told.  
  
"Yes, yes, as long at its okay with your sister. Don't want to spoil your appetite. Brought a whole basket for all of you, they should still be nice and warm and gooey and..."  
  
As Mrs. Giovanni lifted the cover off the basket of brownies and passed them around, Sano looked from his mother, to Yahiko and then back again. He cursed silently. How come everyone -else- could get away with taking the lord's name in vain and he got beaten over the head with a frying pan for it?  
  
"Stop it, Sanoretti. Your head's liable to twist off your neck."  
  
Meg took a brownie and elbowed Kaoru. So -this- is how you defeat the suave and dangerous detective.  
  
"Mmm. Oh. These are good, Mrs. Giovanni," Kaoru conceded. "Thank you so much for bringing them over."  
  
"Oh, its nothing. You know, with a layabout son like my own, never home, always out making mischief, I have just so much time on my hands to make these treats," Mrs. Giovanni sighed melodramatically to emphasize her point.  
  
"Ma," Sano replied dryly, picking up a brownie before his mother could swat his hand away, "You work in a bakery."  
  
"Well..." Mrs. Giovanni seemed finally stumped by that one, and sat down in the porch chair that Kaoru had brought for her. "I didn't come here to discuss my employment. I came here to find out how much trouble you'd been getting into. But, I suppose I shouldn't have worried, with Mr. Himura around. Kenshin's such a good boy, and he won't let you get into any trouble, will you Kenshin?"  
  
Kenshin nodded forcibly, understanding the full implication of the woman's words. If Sano were to get in trouble, Kenshin would be answering to a force he couldn't exactly defeat with his sakabatou.  
  
"Special delivery for Meg Takani!"  
  
The group had been so busy making introductions and eating brownies that they hadn't noticed the delivery man who had pulled up in front of the gate on a motorbike. Meg stood and went to sign for the package, and returned with a sizeable box under her arm.  
  
"Ooo. Is it your birthday, Meg?" Yahiko asked, attempting to poke at the package, wondering if it might contain more food.  
  
Meg lifted the package out of the boy's grasp and set it on the railing. "No. I wasn't expecting anything."  
  
"Well, Foxy, open it up and find out what it is. Don't keep us in susp...OW... Why'd you hit me, ma?"  
  
"That's no way to address a lady."  
  
Meg delicately removed the outer wrapping and pulled out a leather box slightly smaller than a standard briefcase. She fumbled with the brass clasps for a few moments trying to get them to unhitch, and then opened the box.  
  
To a person, everyone gasped at the contents of the box. Inside, the leather case had been lined with plus red velvet which contained two indentations. A fine antique dueling pistol with the word "Carnegie' engraved on it sat in one indentation, and the other remained hollow, missing the accompanying pistol.   
  
At that point, Meg Takani fainted into the arms of the person who had been standing directly behind her, Sanoretti Giovanni.  
  
Kenshin was on his feet immediately. As Kaoru helped Sano put Meg into a porch chair, Mrs. Giovanni's hand fluttered at her own chest, asking where should could find some water for the poor girl.   
  
"Hey Kenshin, look at this," Yahiko said, picking a small white card off the ground.  
  
Kenshin tried to make out the words, but shook his head. "What's it say, Yahiko?"  
  
Yahiko read the card wide-eyed. "It says: 'Meg Carnegie. You have one week to decide. You can shoot yourself with the gun that killed your father, or I can kill you with it's twin.'"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
End chapter.  
  
In our next episode: Kenshin and Sano are on the case as they delve into the mysterious past of Meg Takani...or is that -Carnegie-? Also, always feel free to suggest ideas for humorous vignettes. Please review! 


	8. Penny Dreadful

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Chapter 8 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Yahiko blinked and poked the passed-out Meg in the cheek with his finger. "D'ya think she's dead?"  
  
"That really isn't a nice thing to say, Yahiko, now is it?" Kaoru pushed her brother out of the way and knelt down on the porch to press a wet rag to Meg's head.   
  
"Poor girl's in shock," Mrs. Giovanni clicked her tongue noisily as she knelt down on the other side of Meg. "A terrible business. What a terrible business. Do you think I should go fetch Dr. Genselli, Sano?"  
  
"Nah." Sano, who had resumed leaning against one of the porch posts, flipped his toothpick to the other side of his mouth. "She ain't got yellow fever or nothing, Ma. She just fainted."  
  
"Just like a delicate lady in one of those penny dreadfuls," Mrs. Giovanni replied, putting her fingers against Meg's cheek. "Just like that."  
  
"Geez, you're old, Ma. No one reads those no more."  
  
"Sanoretti Giovanni! Don't you speak to your mother in that tone..."  
  
Kenshin, who this whole time had been alternating between staring at a note he couldn't read, and the box containing the dueling pistol, finally said, "Carnegie. Why would they call her 'Meg Carnegie', Miss Kaoru?"  
  
Kaoru shook her head, indicating that she did not know, as she picked up Meg's wrist and checked for a pulse. Seeming satisfied after a few moments, Kaoru looked up at Kenshin, "She's always been Meg Takani, as long as I've known her."  
  
Meg turned her head to the side a bit, her brows knit in mild discomfort as her lips trembled.   
  
"Oh, I think she's coming around. Meg? Meg? Are you alright?"  
  
"Yes, yes," Meg replied sternly, as if put out by the whole fainting incident. Nonetheless, her fingers curled around Kaoru's, seeking out support. For a moment, she hid her face in the curve of Kaoru's bent leg. "Oh, mother. How has it come to this?"  
  
"Meg?" Kaoru blinked, not used to her friend indulging in these sorts of shows of emotion. She slipped her fingers into the other lady's hair and stroked it gently, "Meg, what is it? What's this all about?"  
  
"There's no reason to make a fuss," Meg replied, allowing Kaoru to help her sit up. They waited while Yahiko went inside to fetch some water. Mrs. Giovanni, on the other hand, took a church program out of her handbag and fanned Meg's face lightly. By the time Yahiko returned, they had Meg in one of the porch chairs.   
  
"Thank you, Yahiko."  
  
"You want smellin' salts, too, Meg?" Yahiko asked. "On the radio they always give smellin' salts to ladies that faint and all."  
  
"No, I'll be fine." Meg sipped the water as she gazed at the now-closed briefcase. "Those pistols...they belong to my family. The Carnegies."  
  
"Carnegie?" Sano took off his hat and scratched at his wild hair. "That's an American name. You're Japanese."  
  
"Not exactly."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"My mother, Katherine Carnegie, was from Boston. Her family, rich industrialists, decided they wanted to open a textile mill here in San Francisco. Grandpa Carnegie thought that he'd best not leave his only daughter out east, not with Grandma gone to heaven. So, when he came west, he brought my mother with him.  
  
She was young, only seventeen, and prettier than most of the hardy pioneer women who made it out this way. Mama had no end of beaus, suitor after suitor calling at their manor, inviting her to luncheons and dances. Even the mayor's son.   
  
She fell in love with a gold-miner's son named Travis. Or, rather, she thought it was love. But, I guess Mama was too young to know the difference. Travis had lots of new money, and he didn't mind spending it on my mother to convince her... Well, before she knew it, Mama wasn't an innocent girl anymore. She was carrying a child, and she wasn't married.  
  
And Travis moved on to woo another.  
  
Of course, if anyone found out, she'd have been scandalized. She confided in her maid, an old Japanese woman. The maid told her that there were potions, drugs, concoctions to get rid of such things. It didn't take long before the pair had concocted a plan. The old servant helped my mother sneak out of the house, and escorted her to Chinatown.   
  
In the dusty back-alley apothecary, my mother spilled her broken-hearted story to a young Japanese pharmacist by the name of Takani Saigo. The gentle doctor was so friendly, and so understanding as he mixed the concoction, that he and my mother became instant friends.   
  
I suppose you can figure out what happened next. While my mother was recovering from the potion he had given her, Saigo came to visit every day. It must have been daunting, seeing as how she lived in a huge manor across the city, and the only way he could get past grandpa was to pretend to be delivering flowers from a secret admirer. Then he would wait for my mother to pen a return letter to the unknown beau, all the while chatting quietly with the object of his affection.  
  
Clever, really.  
  
They fell in love, of course. For real, this time. Papa wanted nothing in his life more than to marry Mama. And she, she wanted nothing more than to live with Papa. Mama never cared about the Carnegie fortune. She just wanted to be a simple woman, a woman in love. And so, she ran away to Chinatown. They were wed as soon as possible, and soon after, I came along.  
  
I should note that things were hard for them both. Not only did they have to keep it a secret from the Carnegie family, but interacting with local Chinatown residents was often difficult, as well. Mama did not know -any- Japanese, and some of the older people were quite hostile towards her. But, they did their best. Yes, together they made a cozy little home.  
  
Mama was sad to leave her family behind, especially her father. He was strict, but she loved him nonetheless. When she heard news of his passing, she cried endlessly. It tore her up inside not to have been by his side at the end, and when she realized that she couldn't go to his funeral, she locked herself in the powder room for days.  
  
Grandpa, being the oldest son of the Carnegie family, was heir to sizeable estate. And mother, being his oldest child, was next in line to obtain controlling interest in their companies.  
  
Strangely, Grandpa had never changed his will after Mama left. I suppose he always hoped that she would return to him.  
  
Other family members went crazy. They had to find Mama, or her stock shares would be sold to the stockholders. They hired detectives, police, spies. Anyone. They followed up every lead, and they finally found her, right here, in Chinatown.  
  
They thought it preposterous that she had married a lowly Japanese man. And how dare she give birth to a half-breed daughter? But, nonetheless, they needed her. My uncles and aunts and other assorted family members would lose their money if the Carnegie corporations fell into the hands of the board.  
  
They threatened to kill me, and my father. In the end, my mother was forced to return to Boston. They took me along, of course. They had to control my fate, and make certain that the Carnegie corporation's money wouldn't fall into my hands in years to come.  
  
But, they couldn't have a half-Japanese baby toddling around after the heir to the Carnegie's fortune. Not in the cutthroat social circles of Boston's elite. So, they sent me to live in the small Massachusetts town of Cape Cod with my great-aunt Quincy. Aunt Quincy was the Carnegie family's other outcast, a sour old dowager who eschewed her family's questionable money-making tactics.   
  
Aunt Quincy was quite a firm disciplinarian, a stout old woman who didn't think twice about beating her lazy chauffer with her handbag when she found him drinking her cognac. She didn't go to church, because she said that if God needed her assistance, He'd ask. And she had the most horrifying little mongrel of a dog, a Pomeranian named 'Martin'.  
  
At first, I was terrified of her. I'd grown up in Chinatown, and wasn't used to assertive and liberated American women. But, in time, Aunt Quincy and I became partners in crime. She never once made any comments about my half-Japanese heritage. According to Aunt Quincy, fine ladies could hail from any culture. One only needed grace, kindness, and eloquence. I think, in the end, that I was Aunt Quincy's favorite project. We made quite a pair walking about Cape Cod, the wicked old widow and her exotic protege. We'd take trips to New York City to see Aunt Quincy's friends, and she'd take me to museums and operas. No one dared say a word to Quincy Carnegie, society's eccentric grande dame. She had too many old biddies as friends, and one well-placed rumor could have your dance card completely empty out for seasons on end.  
  
Mama came to visit when she could. But, her family attempted to keep her from me as much as possible. They held her captive with threats and insinuations. She always looked as if she hadn't slept in weeks by the time she visited. I worried about her, and about father back West, all the time.  
  
And then, Aunt Quincy decided I needed to learn something new. I suppose she knew about our dangerous relatives and wanted me to be able to protect myself.   
  
So, she bought me a pair of dueling pistols.  
  
I trained every day. Really, I was quite good. I'd perform trick shooting at Aunt Quincy's garden parties, much to the delight of her friends.   
  
But, back in Boston, things weren't going well. The Carnegie family was putting pressure on Mama to write me out of her will. Aunt Quincy was quite worried that they'd try to hurt me. So, the month before I turned 18, old enough to have some shares of Carnegie stock transferred into my name, Aunt Quincy gave me half of her savings, and took me to the train station.  
  
"Don't tell me where you're going, Meg," she said. "Just go. Go somewhere and change your name. Avoid everyone for a while, even your father. You don't let them get to you. I raised you to be strong and proud, and you go out into the world and do right by your Aunt Quincy."  
  
So, I did. I drifted for a while on Aunt Quincy's money. When it ran out, I took a job in a small traveling circus doing trick-shooting on horseback. I felt low. Circus life was a far cry from opera and garden parties. For two years, I traveled America.   
  
And then, one day, I fell from my horse. I couldn't perform with a broken leg. So, I took the twenty dollars in my savings, and took the train west.  
  
Home. Home to San Francisco and to my father.  
  
He was so glad to see me. He took me in, and I began to work for him in his apothecary. I liked it much better than being in the circus, by far. Healing people was quite a noble profession, one would make even Aunt Quincy proud. "Doctors", she had always told me, "Are the pillars of society. You must invite one to every social gathering you hold. Not only are they intelligent, but if a lady swoons or faints it is good to have one handy."  
  
We lived peacefully together for some time. I began to think that the Carnegie family had given up on tracking me down.  
  
But, then, one September night, I heard shouting downstairs. I climbed out of bed and rushed towards my father's voice.  
  
I don't know who those men were. Thugs hired by the Carnegies, I suppose. They grabbed me by my hair and forced me against the wall.  
  
My father. My poor, gentle-hearted father. They shot him.  
  
I didn't understand why. Why? He wasn't in line to inherit their precious money. Why would they do such a horrible, cruel, senseless thing?  
  
I didn't understand until months later, when the society column announced that Katherine Carnegie, my mother, was to be engaged to an up-and-coming businessmanI recognized as one of my Uncle Robert's lackeys. Of course, they wantedto marry my mother off so that they could manipulate the businesses moreeffectively through her husband. The stock I owned was nothing compared to my mother's assets. They didn't care now, what became of me, since upon my mother's death, all of her money would pass to her new husband. And -he- had probably signed a contract to return everything to the Carnegie family.  
  
Insidious, no?  
  
I was outraged. Depressed. So affected by my father's death that I could barely run the apothecary. Everything reminded me of him, of the happiness he and my mother once had. Some days, I didn't even open the store. I just sat in my room, trying to decide the most painless way to die.  
  
But, not long after my father's death, I was visiting his grave, and I happened upon Kaoru and Yahiko.   
  
Kaoru, too, had lost her father, and her mother as well. And yet, she kept smiling. She was perhaps the most upbeat and positive person I'd ever met. When she said that they needed a tenant for the old flower shop, I accepted immediately, in the hopes that I could start a new life. I assumed, perhaps incorrectly, that my relatives had finally forgotten about me...  
  
Until that package was delivered.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
The residents of the Kamiya Learning Center, plus the two visiting Italians, stood gaping at Meg. Even Yahiko looked concerned, kneeling beside Meg's chair and scowling like an upset puppy.  
  
"Goodness, Meg," Kaoru finally said, "That's just awful."  
  
Sano swished his toothpick to the other side of his mouth, "Sure, it's awful an' all. But, don't you get it? It means Meg's an heiress! Missy's been living next door to a rich woman. The bank almost foreclosed on Kaoru's house, when her tenant was probably one of the richest women in San Francisco all along! Yahiko almost got killed trying to get money for his sister..."  
  
Even Mrs. Giovanni had no response to this but a thoughtful clicking of her tongue.  
  
Meg's lips twitched in annoyance as she flounced her hair over her shoulder. "I sold my few shares when I moved here. I needed money before I had regular customers. Herbal apothecaries aren't exactly the most profitable of businesses."  
  
"Of course you did, darling," Mrs. Giovanni replied, patting Meg on the shoulder as she glared at her son for even -suggesting- that Meg might be anything less than the most upstanding of young ladies. "Poor delicate child."  
  
Kenshin, who had been crouched against the whitewashed railing on the porch, looked perplexed as he ran his fingers over the elegantly crafted gun case. "It doesn't explain why they would come after Miss Meg now. If the family money is no longer in danger of being passed to her, why threaten her?"  
  
Meg folded her white-gloved hands in her lap and sighed, "That's something I'm afraid I don't know. All I know is that the Carnegie family will do anything to get more money, and the money they already have lets them get away with anything they do. It's useless to contact the authorities, because you can never tell who has been bribed. Did you know there wasn't even an investigation after my father was killed? The police wrote it off as a burglary gone wrong."  
  
Kaoru watched Kenshin consider this. His eyes, glazed over with internal confusion, stared at the floor of the wooden porch. Was he thinking of the murder of Takani-san, wondering if he had ever killed some kindhearted girl's father? He seemed a million miles away, lost in a sea of sadness, confusion, and regret. It lasted for only a moment. And then, as if he knew he was being watched, a small smile graced Kenshin's lips. He looked up, straight at Kaoru, once again becomming the mysterious but gentle detective she'd taken into her house.  
  
"Oh, I know!" Yahiko exclaimed, "Why don't you hire Sano and Kenshin to find out who sent the guns and what they want from you? They are supposed to be detectives, after all. And they don't got no other big cases..."  
  
"Don't -have- any other big cases," Kaoru corrected, pursing her lips.   
  
Yahiko rolled his eyes, "Whatever. Geez, sis. You're such a nagging Nancy."  
  
"Yes, well, at least I speak English properly." Kaoru suddenly remembered herself and looked at her red-headed boarder, "No offense intended, Kenshin."  
  
Still smiling, Kenshin nodded in reply and raised his gaze towards the fedora-hatted Italian standing next to him. "What do you think, Sano?"  
  
"Well, we are supposed to be keeping dibs on Mr. Tipanelli's activities for Mrs. Tipanelli. But, since we've already deduced that his suspected mistress is actually the dog track, I don't see why not."  
  
"I..." Meg tugged at the fingertips of her gloves, removing them slowly and folding them in half, "I'm afraid I don't have much money to offer."  
  
"But, of course you do, Meg!" Yahiko replied, "Once everything's been put right, you can sell that gun and the case down at Mr. Kazemoto's pawn shop."  
  
"Yes, I suppose...."  
  
"Miss Meg, are these pistols the same type you used for your trick shottery?" Kenshin asked, standing and brushing the later summer dust from his pants.  
  
"Trick -shooting-," Kaoru murmured, unable to resist. Kenshin nodded as he mentally marked down the correct word.  
  
"Indeed they are. I suppose my father's murderers did steal something, after all."  
  
Sano took off his hat and scratched his head. "Hm. Well, I s'pose we could start by tracking down any relatives of Meg's that might be in the city and questioning them. You think you can give us a list of names, Meg?"  
  
"Certainly."  
  
"What can I do?" Yahiko asked, hopping up to sit on the railing, "I want to help, too. I'm a junior detective, after all, aren't I?"  
  
Sano chuckled and caught the boy in a headlock, "Sure, you're a junior detective. But, we ain't paying you nothing." As Yahiko struggled helplessly to escape the oncoming noogie, Sano looked at his mother, "Say Ma, why don't you take everyone over to our house for the time being. It'll be safer for Meg to be somewhere they don't know about. 'Sides, you'll have Junior Detective Yahiko to look after you."  
  
"Oh, that'll be fine," Mrs. Giovanni replied. "You wouldn't mind looking after us, would you, little Yahiko?"  
  
"Little?" Yahiko finally succeeded in escaping from Sano. "Don't call me..."  
  
"Wonderful. I'll make more brownies and we'll have a fine time."  
  
Yahiko became frozen with the thought of more brownies, and immediately forgot that he'd just been insulted.  
  
Kaoru smiled. "Come on, Meg, lets go pack some things."  
  
"Alright."  
  
As Kaoru, Yahiko, Meg and Mrs. Giovanni disappeared into the monstrously purple Kamiya Learning Center, Kenshin picked up the gun case and handed it to Sano. The tall Italian flipped open the latches and peered at the ornate dueling pistol.  
  
"What do you think, Kenshin?"  
  
"Something not quite right about it, Sano."  
  
Sanoretti nodded and snapped the case shut again. "This'll be a doozy. Guns are really dangerous things. Even these ancient pistols could tear a hole in a man as big as a fist. Someone could get seriously hurt."  
  
Kenshin smirked and picked up his folded trenchcoat off of one of the porch chairs. "Ah yes. But there is a saying in your country..."  
  
"Which one?"  
  
"Never bring a gun to a swordfight."  
  
"You have that backwards, Kenshin."  
  
"Oh."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Would you like a beer, sir?" The young Irish barmaid smiled pleasantly at her customer. He'd been sitting on the very end stool all evening long, just flipping a silver lighter in his hand, lighting it and snapping it closed. Over. And over. And over.  
  
Flick. Flame. Click. Flick. Flame. Click.  
  
"Your alcohol is putrid. I'd rather drink horse piss."  
  
"Oh," the red-headed woman stepped backwards slightly and forced herself to smile. "Can I get you something else, then?"  
  
"Yes. Ice water."  
  
The girl nodded meekly and hopped away, leaving the surly customer to his thoughts.   
  
"I hate this country."  
  
An older gentleman halfway down the bar looked up from his newspaper and stole a glance at the other customer. His eyes widened in fear, and he immediately returned to his previous task.  
  
"That's right. You heard me. I -hate- this country. I hate the way it smells, as if its been dipped in sewage. I hate the sound of your church bells, the whiny high-pitched squeals of your little children as they gobble ice cream cones. I hate the way you dress, with your clunky shoes and your abrasive fabrics, constricting around the body like a python. I hate the language, nasal and loud, like the squawking of a chicken. I hate baseball, and ragtime music, and picture shows. This entire land is repulsive and backwards, full of misfits and criminals."  
  
None of the other half-dozen bar occupants had a single word to say in response.  
  
Flick. Flame. Click. Flick. Flame. Click.  
  
"Here's your ice water, sir," the bartender said with forced pleasantry. "That'll be two cents."  
  
The requested pennies fell onto the table. The barmaid moved to scoop them up, almost visibly trembling as she looked at her customer. "Um. Thanks, uh..." The girl squinted at badge on the man's chest, "Thanks, Officer Taylor. Taylor, huh? That's a pretty funny name for an oriental fella."  
  
Officer Taylor leaned forward until his nose was only about one centimeter from the Irish barmaid. He grabbed her chin and inhaled deeply. "You're pretty far from home, aren't you?"  
  
"Well, I..."  
  
The policeman released the girl. She stumbled towards the other end of the bar, desperately trying to keep her cool as she went to refill another customer's beer.  
  
"The Irish ones always smell like rotten potatoes, no matter how long they've been here," Officer Taylor said to no one in particular. "Well, maybe there is one country more pathetic than the United States after all."  
  
With a grunt, the cop lifted his ice water in one hand and held it up, toasting the air.  
  
"Here's to you, Tokio. Thank God you're not Irish."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
In Our Next Chapter: Uh oh, a very familiar cop is in town. Will Kenshin and Sano find out who sent the guns to Meg before they try to kill her? Will Yahiko explode from eating too many brownies?   
  
Author Notes: Thanks to everyone who has been enjoying this story! If you'd like, take a look at my site, angrybee.vze.com and click on "Fanfiction Extras" to take a peek at some fan art which ChiisaiLammy has so graciously done. She's drawn Kenshin, Sano, Yahiko, Meg and Kaoru in their 1920's attire!   
  
Penny Dreadfuls were small 19th century publications, very pulpy sorts of stories, written for their shock value. They lost their popularity by the beginning of the 20th century, which is why Sano tells his mother "No one reads those anymore."  
  
The title of this story "Hot and Cold" refers not only to Kenshin and Kaoru's particular body temperatures, but more to the old children's game "Hot and Cold", where one child seeks out an object, and the other children tell him if he is getting "Hotter" or "Colder" in finding the object. 


End file.
